


The Dreamcatcher

by SaskiaK



Category: My Chemical Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-01-30 05:16:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21422785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaskiaK/pseuds/SaskiaK
Summary: Gerard has been working hard on a new comic book but things go from bad to worse when the supposedly fictional antagonist comes to life...Set around the time of the Teenagers video (only because that was when I originally wrote it. I’m rewriting parts to post here).
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. Introducing The Dreamcatcher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard introduces his new comic book

"Okay!" The interviewer turned to camera. "You're watching _Rock Like You Mean It_ and you're back with me, James Rodez and our guest today, My Chemical Romance frontman, Gerard Way."

Gerard was seated on a long, bright red couch with a variety of clashing coloured cushions. Behind him, a garish backdrop with the show's title emblazoned across it hung from the gantry above in an otherwise brilliant white studio. A cameraman zoomed in on the singer on the interviewer's cue and Gerard smiled obligingly and nodded at the camera. In his left hand he held a take out cup of coffee, with the famous green logo obscured from the camera and with his right hand he offered a brief but cheerful wave.

"So, Gerard," Rodez opened, as he turned back to his guest. "Tell us about your new comic book. The last time we spoke, you were formulating ideas and creating characters. Has it moved beyond the writing stage yet."

Gerard gave a small, almost shy laugh, and leaned forward slightly as he pushed his hair back.

"Yeah," he nodded with enthusiasm, "it's moving really fast actually. The story has been drafted, the writing is actually almost complete for the first three issues and some of the pages of the first issue have already been inked. They're not lettered or coloured yet, but I can say that so far, they're looking pretty dramatic. I have a few of the proofs back at the hotel and all I can say is 'wow!'."  
"You didn't bring them with you?" Rodez sounded genuinely disappointed as he spoke the words.  
"No," Gerard shook his head, "it's not really that practical. Even though a comic has pretty small pages, the proofs are backed on card and are about forty by thirty inches. Not easy to just tuck under your arm or throw into a bag. Besides, you wouldn't ask an artist to show you a painting half way through, would you?"  
"You see this as a work of art?" Rodez asked with a chuckle in his tone.

Gerard paused and sat back slightly as he considered his reply. Rodez had made the mistake that interviewers often made with band members by assuming them to be neither intelligent nor articulate. Gerard Way was both of these things and possessed a healthy passion and talent for this particular art form, amongst others.

"Yes, it's a work of art," he began calmly but deliberately so that Rodez would hear both his passion and knowledge. "Not in the classical sense perhaps, like a Monet or Da Vinci painting, but no one can really question the extensive work and training that goes into the production of comic books and the emotion stirred by the contents. The ability to tell coherent and exciting stories with limited art work and words is a phenomenally difficult task and takes a great deal of imagination and skill. On top of that, when drawn well, and believe me they are drawn extremely well, it's almost as if the characters come to life and the reader fully and completely enters the world."

Rodez cleared his throat; he hadn't expected the reply to be such a comprehensive yet impenetrably polite rebuke and he not only felt a strong urge to move on, but the voice in his earpiece was almost as damning but much more angry sounding than Gerard had been. The station liked to mix things up occasionally, but the My Chemical Romance fanbase plus Gerard's comic fans added up to a large proportion of their audience and alienating them was not in their interests.

"Elequently put. I stand corrected." he replied, responding to the angry voice in his ear demanding that he work with Gerard instead of against him. "So... you have a new artist working on the comic now. How did you find him? How's he working out?"  
"Yeah, he's called Vincent Hernandez and he's a genius. We put out a general call for new artists - I like to keep things fresh and finding new talent is part of what we do at Dark Horse. Well, a lot of great artists submitted their work but when I saw Vincent's..." momentarily Gerard seemed to struggle to express himself. "I've never seen artwork like it. It's as if he could reach into my mind and physically produce the characters exactly as I was imagining them. It's truly amazing! I do wish I'd brought the proofs now because there's really nothing I can say that can explain how exceptional they are."  
"Praise indeed!" Rodez replied, now sounding excited, perhaps making up for his earlier mistake or possibly swept up in the anticipation. "Well, I'm sure they'll have to be good to bring to life your new character." He enthused. "Can you tell us a little about him... or her?"  
"Sure!" Gerard agreed cheerfully. "He's called The Dreamcatcher. To look at him at first, he looks like an ordinary guy, but painfully thin, almost ill looking. But in fact, really, he is an ordinary guy, or at least he was."  
"He was? What happened?" Rodez asked, glancing between Gerard and the camera. "I'm sure our viewers would love to know!"  
"He gets trapped in the dream world and while there he discovers that he now has a supernatural power."  
"Yeah? And what's that?" Rodez asked, appearing excited for the benefit of the camera.  
"He feeds on people's hopes and dreams, sucking everything out of them, leaving them with nothing, just an empty shell."  
"Like a vampire sucks blood?"  
"Not in the same way, but it's a good analogy. Anyway, as he feeds on people, he grows bigger and stronger. At first it's a drain on him to appear but as he gets stronger he can move in our world at will. If he feeds on people who have already achieved their dreams he doubles in strength. But his ultimate goal is to find someone who has not only achieved his or her own dreams, but fuels the dreams of others, because that will give him superhuman strength."  
"So, he doesn't start out with superhuman strength? He's a villain, obviously. But all villains have their nemesis. Who is his and what's he like?"

Gerard grinned, beaming with excitement; the idea was new and untried.

"He doesn't know, he only knows him by his hero name, but his identity is a secret. And here's the twist, even the person who is his nemesis isn't aware of it."  
"If his nemesis isn't aware of who he is and what he needs to do, how will he even know to fight The Dreamcatcher?" Rodez asked, intrigued by the plot twist.  
"Well," Gerard sat back and smirked, "you'll have to read the comic book to find out, won't you?"  
"Ah! I guess I will!" Rodez laughed. "But from the sounds of it, I'll have to fight to get a copy. That's just going to fly off the shelves!"  
"I hope so," Gerard nodded. "A lot of people have worked really hard on it."  
"Gerard Way, thanks for giving up your time to talk to us today. I hope the comic sells really well!"  
"Thanks!" Gerard grinned. "And thanks for having me here."

Gerard glanced idly around the room as the camera focused in on Rodez and he signed off. An unexpected sight caught his eye in the corner of the room causing him to do a double take. As his head swung back to look in the far corner, he frowned as his eyes fell on nothing but the darkened corner. Had his active imagination created something that simply wasn't there? If someone had asked him then and there to describe what he had seen, he would be the first to admit that he would be unable to explain what had caused his reaction. But he was sure he had seen something disturbing. Well, fairly certain, at least. Possibly. Maybe.

*

Less than twenty minutes later, Gerard stood in the alley at the side of the studio and lit a cigarette. This had been his second interview today - it had been a long day already and it was still only lunchtime. An early morning radio interview was followed by the ten-minute slot in the show, but he had been required to turn up two hours earlier to prepare. The time had flown by in a whirl. First he had to meet the interviewer and the other guests. A run through of the questions and the rough replies that Gerard would give took over an hour in itself. The whole process was designed to make the interview flow better; cutting out the 'umming' and 'ahhing' of thinking time, but at the same time, he knew that it shouldn't sound rehearsed. He tended not to think about it too much and knew from experience that that worked best for him. Then came make up and the obligatory discussion about words that were not acceptable for television, especially one aimed at teenagers. Gerard had chuckled to himself as he read the tame and largely inoffensive list of words he absolutely, on pain of death, must not say. For sheer amusement value and under the guise of being helpful, he had added several others that were missing from the list before handing it back to the producer.

"Do you really think you're safe here in the alley?"

Gerard turned sharply. He had been alone and had heard no one approach. His head turned sharply from side to side and he even looked up but found himself still very much alone. He frowned deeply with concern, his brows furrowing as he recalled the ominous words; he was absolutely certain he had heard a voice warning him about his safety in a threatening tone. Throwing the half smoked cigarette to the floor, he headed to the front of the building where a car was now waiting for him. Almost at the end of the alley a shape moved swiftly across the gap in the two buildings. Momentarily, Gerard stopped dead in his tracks; his mind flooding with conflicting thoughts. It was the same thing he had seen in the corner of the studio. But it wasn't possible. Was it? Racing to the main street, he looked to his left. Fleetingly he saw something or someone turn a corner at the next block, but he couldn't be certain. Before he could do or say anything, he was surrounded.

"Gerard!"  
"Will you sign my CD?"  
"Can I get a photo?"

Resetting himself, Gerard gave a last glance up the street before turning to his fans and offering a broad smile.

"Mister Way? Are you okay?"

Whilst still posing for photos and signing scraps of paper, comics and CDs, Gerard looked up to see his driver waiting patiently to his right.

"Yeah, sure, Ben," he nodded. Checking to be sure he had signed everything presented to him, he excused himself. "Sorry, I have to go."

He was met with a chorus of disappointed sighs, which only made him smile all the more. Gently extricating himself from the large group, he headed with a cheerful grin and a wave to the car.

"And I asked you to call me Gee," he said as he climbed inside.  
"Sure," his driver nodded.  
"Ben, I'm serious."  
"Okay! I will. Back to the hotel?"  
"Please," Gerard replied with a sleepy sigh as he settled back into the comforting darkness. "I think I'm done for the day."  
"Are you sure you're okay though?" Ben asked as he pulled out into traffic.  
"Yeah," Gerard replied, opening his eyes once more. "Why?"  
"It's just, you looked a bit rattled when you came out of the alley," Ben replied with concern in his voice.  
"Ben, did you see anything?" Gerard began in a slightly hesitant voice. "I mean, near the alley, other than me?"  
"No, nothing, just you," he answered, glancing in the rear view mirror to look at his passenger. "Like what?"

Gerard thought for a moment as he considered the question.

"I don't know. Never mind, I'm probably just tired."  
"Well, you're clear for the afternoon, maybe you can get a nap back at the hotel."  
"Yeah," Gerard nodded.

It had been a pretty hectic few weeks and he was certainly tired. A nap sounded like a good idea, and not one that he even had to wait for. Closing his eyes, Gerard settled back in the warm comfort of the car.


	2. The First Victim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What’s happening to Gerard?

With a combination of the darkened windows, the warm interior and being lulled by the gentle motion of the car as it moved through the slow afternoon traffic, it wasn’t long before Gerard dozed off. Allowing his head to loll against the black cushioned winged head-rest, he relaxed, his breathing slowed and deepened but remained almost soundless as he began to slip into the beginnings of a disturbing dream. The smallest sigh of discomfort passed his lips before he was jarred awake with disorientating abruptness by a sudden juddering sensation that ran through the length of the car. A wrenching, searing and almost nausea inducing pain heated his entire body as he was thrown forward and almost immediately back again as the seatbelt held firm. His right hand shot to his left shoulder as it flared with a burning sensation and his neck ached from slamming back into the headrest.

Within a single breath all pain left him and Gerard’s eyes shot wide open. He looked around, frantic and confused, as he tried to pull his mind back to something resembling an alert state. There seemed at first no obvious cause for either the sensation that had dragged him back to full wakefulness or the pain he had felt, however briefly that had lasted. At first glance nothing seemed wrong or out of place - the car was still moving and he felt fine. Only as he finally began to relax once more did he feel his heart thumping in his chest and the accompanying adrenaline racing around his body was beginning to make him feel lightheaded. A slight smile masking his embarrassment graced his lips at what he now realised was simply waking suddenly from a bad dream.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Gerard pushed himself forward in his seat to share the experience with Ben and further lighten the moment. As he did, he looked, almost without thinking, to his left and glanced out of the window. The sight that lay beyond the darkened glass drew an immediate frown from the singer, his brow furrowing deeply as he stared.

Unless Ben had somehow driven into a war zone or a movie set, the scene outside was simply impossible. The dilapidated streets lay deserted. Crumbling ruins of buildings lined the sidewalks with most, if not all, of their windows shattered and broken. Doors hung at peculiar angles from broken hinges, many stained with old and fading graffiti. Long burned out cars littered the road and an abundance of waste paper and brown curled up leaves swirled in the wind.

_Where on Earth were they?_

“Ben!” he called, confused by what he was seeing. “Where are…”

Leaning forward, Gerard placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder and gasped in dismay as he saw his driver slump slowly and heavily over the wheel. Pulling him back into his seat again, Gerard could now see that he was both deathly pale and had been bleeding from a large gash in his forehead but now looked dried with dark reddish-brown flakes of blood caked around the deep cut and across his face, yet somehow the car was still moving in a straight line along the road.

“Ben!” he yelled again, trying to wake the driver, unable to take in the incredible and impossible scene he had awoken to. Feeling for a pulse, Gerard’s hand recoiled immediately and he gasped in horrified surprise at the feel of Ben’s unnaturally ice cold skin.

There was no time to consider the improbability of what had happened - how Ben was already cold, how the blood had dried, the empty ruins surrounding him but especially how the car was still moving. Looking through the windshield at the road further ahead, Gerard paled as he noticed a sharp bend approaching less than a few hundred yards away. Panic sank deep into the pit of his stomach at the realisation the car was mere seconds from crashing into the large brick building on the corner that had, at one point, been a bank. Somehow he had to get control of the car or... he didn’t want to think about ‘_or_’.

With no time to think about the logistics or even the practicalities, Gerard gripped the headrests of the two front seats and pulled himself forward. Silently he was relieved that the large car offered a sizeable enough gap between the two front seats for him to climb through but even so it was going to be an awkward manoeuvre.

With one leg extended through the gap, Gerard prepared to push himself between seats to get to the front. Even as he did, he realised that with the motion of the car and the speed he would need to get to the front, his balance would be compromised. He desperately hoped that assuming he managed it, he still had time to pull Ben from the seat while simultaneously grabbing the steering wheel to prevent the car crashing even before it reached the turn. This would be next to impossible but he had no choice.

Grimacing as he almost fell forward into the dashboard, his heart pounding in his chest, Gerard was suddenly thrown backwards as the car lurched forward, gaining speed and increasing with each passing second.

Looking up from where he had been thrown, now sprawled on the back seat, Gerard’s eyes widened in horror as he saw the bend now imminent. This was it, the car was now moving too fast and he was out of time. He closed his eyes; instinct driving him to cling on to whatever he could in an attempt to avoid or, at best, limit injury.

“_No need for you to worry, Gerard, I won’t let you die._”

Opening his eyes wide as he heard the same voice that had spoken to him in the alley. Again, there was nothing and no one nearby. Gerard’s heart continued to race as the sound and sensation of the car going into a violent and uncontrolled spin filled his ears. What felt only a split second later, the car ground to a shuddering abrupt halt, throwing Gerard off the seat and to the floor. Aware of nothing else, everything went black.

*

“Is he okay?”  
“Has anyone called 911?”  
“Yeah, the ambulance is on its way.”  
“Is he awake?”  
“He’s moving.”  
“Are you okay, son?”

Gerard’s eyes fluttered and he gazed up blankly at the people standing around him. He was on the ground, lying in the road about ten feet from the car; cold, shocked, disoriented and his left shoulder both ached and stung.

“Wh-what… I…” he began, his vision blurred, his thoughts confused and unsure what to ask first. “Ben?” he finally managed.  
“Who’s Ben?” one of the bystanders asked.  
“Maybe the driver?” another suggested.  
“Yeah,” Gerard nodded stiffly, grimacing as he felt pain in his neck. “How is he?”  
“You just rest, son. Don’t worry about him,” a man answered quickly, frowning as he looked down. “An ambulance is on the way. Are you cold? You’re shivering.”

Gerard’s brow creased at the words and he pulled his arms back to push himself upright only to be frustrated as several hands pushed him back down.

“You have to rest, the ambulance is on its way. You could be hurt.”  
“I’m not,” he lied, now desperate to check on Ben after what he hoped had been just a worrying dream. “What happened? Where’s Ben?”

Ignoring the pain, Gerard scrambled backwards a few feet, beyond reach of restraining hands and pushed himself to his feet. At first unsteady, Gerard regretted the action almost immediately but he had to check on Ben, especially after the evasive response of the stranger.

Turning to look inside the car, Gerard lost his already fragile balance and staggered back a few paces, finding himself profoundly disturbed by the sight before him.

“Don’t look!” an older man physically turned him away from the car.  
“H…how…” Gerard stammered as he turned his head back to look over his shoulder, horrified but unable to look away.

Inside the car, Ben was still seated at the wheel and it seemed that every last drop of colour was absent from his features. His skin was pure white, almost translucent. But, as he gaped in disbelief, Gerard noticed with considerable unease, that it was not just the driver’s skin; his veins, lips, eyes, hair, everything, were merely shades of black white and grey. Gerard thought back to the vampire movies he loved. When the victim was found, they were pale certainly, but it was clear that they had once lived. Ben’s deathly pallor was unlike anything he had ever seen – real or fiction. It was simply impossible.

“What happened?” Gerard finally managed his voice subdued and cracked. “Did you see? I think I was asleep in the car. I was dreaming…”

Now looking around, Gerard saw that the skyline was exactly as it should be; no derelict buildings, no wasteland. It made no sense. But he had also heard that voice. Hadn’t he? Had that been a dream too? But they had crashed. Gerard put his hand to his head, confused by what was happening and his inability to separate dream from reality. Dropping his head, he began to snatch his breaths, unaware in his distress that the ambulance had pulled up nearby. Taking short but deep and frequent gasps of air, Gerard began to hyperventilate before staggering again, only to be caught by a paramedic.

“Hey!” the paramedic took hold of his shoulders. “Let’s get you lying down and get you some oxygen.”  
“I’m fine.” Gerard argued unconvincingly, his voice dropping almost to a whisper as he started to truly react to what had happened.

Ignoring his protests, the paramedic pushed him down until finally he was seated on a gurney.

“You’re in shock,” the paramedic explained, placing an oxygen mask on Gerard’s face.  
“What happened to Ben?” Gerard asked, lifting the oxygen mask up.  
“Leave that mask on and lie down, we need to get you to the hospital.”  
“I’m fine.” Gerard protested again before continuing with uncertainty. “But… Ben…?”

A second paramedic shook his head slowly as the man standing beside Gerard glanced in his direction.

“Just take it easy, lie down and we’ll get you to the hospital.”  
“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Gerard asked quietly. “I know he is. You can tell me.”  
“Let’s just get you to hospital.”

Suddenly exhausted by the shock, Gerard gave in and flopped his head back on the pillow; but there was no way they were going to let him do otherwise. Turning his head, he frowned with distaste at the now large crowd of onlookers gazing at Ben’s lifeless and curiously pale body with morbid fascination. To the far left of the crowd, he saw something, or someone; so faint and somehow transparent, it was hard to tell exactly what it was. The figure grinned as Gerard noticed him and in that moment he became certain it was the same figure that he had seen twice before. Now the figure was clearer and actually visible to the eye, rather than just a glimpse of movement. As his eyes widened in surprise, straps were pulled across his arms and legs, securing him to the gurney, to prevent him falling off in preparation for lifting him into the ambulance.

“It’s him!” he shouted, trying to sit up, to no avail.

Bending his arm, he tried to loosen the straps, but even as his hands reached the clasps, the paramedics pulled them away.

“No!” Gerard glanced up. “You don’t understand.”  
“Should we sedate him? I think he’s going into shock.” one of them asked.  
“What?” Gerard shook his head vigorously. “No. It’s him. Can’t you see…?”

Looking over to where he had spotted the figure, Gerard’s expression became one of confusion as the space was once more vacant.

“_They can’t see me_.” A voice echoed near Gerard’s ear. “_Only you can see me. Don’t you recognise me? You invented me._”

Turning his head sharply, Gerard saw that the figure was now at his shoulder. A tall and painfully thin man with a shock of black hair and dressed in black robes with a cruel smirk fixed on his face - Gerard couldn’t help but recognise him. It was indeed his own creation - The Dreamcatcher. Gasping in shock, Gerard’s eyes widened first in pain and then panic, his brow creasing in distress as a syringe was forced into his arm.

“That should help.” One of the paramedics commented.

Gerard turned an anxious expression toward the paramedic. At his side was The Dreamcatcher: a fictional homicidal character of his own making that only he could see. Was he going mad?

“Don’t knock me out,” he pleaded.

The paramedic shook his head as he noted the drug begin to take effect.

“Sorry,” he shrugged as the gurney was lifted into the ambulance and locked in place. “Too late for that.”

Afraid and confused, Gerard fought the sedative as beside him, his own fictional creation - The Dreamcatcher - stood semi-transparent and grinning at him as he lay on the gurney. Despite Gerard’s best efforts, the sedative won the battle and a wave of sleep washed over him, finally releasing him from the waking nightmare.


	3. Mikey is Worried

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys arrive at the hospital, well, most of them and Gerard gets a visitor

As hospital waiting rooms went, this one was unremarkable but at least it was private and given their fame, their newsworthiness and the strange details of this particular incident, Mikey was more than grateful for the privacy.

One small window, high on the wall allowed a reasonable amount of daylight into the room but Mikey was still uncertain over whether or not to switch on the lamp that stood in the corner furthest from the door of the small room. He remained seated on the plain blue two-seater couch, more out of indifference than any real decision making. Opposite him were two small and functional chairs that matched the blue of the couch but seemed to be of a different style. Absently he wondered if they had all been reupholstered to make them look like a set. With a deep sigh at the odd thoughts now running through his mind, he tossed the unread magazine he held onto the pile on the low pine coffee table in the centre of the room and sat back, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Having both been at the hotel when the call had been made to contact them, Mikey and Ray had been the first there, only twenty minutes earlier, but it already felt like an age. The first ten or fifteen minutes had been taken up by the doctor explaining Gerard's condition and answering Mikey and Ray's inevitable questions. The last five were spent settling into the waiting room, texting Frank and Bob - again - and Ray disappearing to find coffee. Mikey had been grateful for this gesture. Yes, Ray liked coffee too, but he knew it was mostly intended to settle his nerves more than any great need to drink. It was, of course, counterintuitive; the caffeine in coffee should have made him more jittery than he already felt, but they both knew that even one sip would help calm him down.

As the door opened slowly, Mikey looked up. He appeared tired and physically drained, but raised a smile as Frank and Ray stepped inside.

"Look who I found," Ray smiled nodding to Frank as he placed three coffees down on the table.  
"Sorry I stopped you getting a tattoo, Frank," Mikey said as he rose from the couch and pulled the guitarist into a hug.

On pulling back, Frank tipped his head and smiled.

"This _is_ more important, Mikey," he replied, adding emphasis.  
"Sorry," Mikey's brow creased and his lips parted slightly. "I didn't mean it like that. I know you care... I just..."

Frank interrupted his friend by pulling him into a second hug.

"Hey, I know!" He locked eyes with the young bassist and nodded firmly. "You don't need to worry about us, you've got enough going on," Frank explained; it seemed that Mikey's nerves were fried - understandably so.

"Now... How is he?" He added. "And what happened?"  
"You better sit down," Mikey indicated to the room's two chairs. "This is a bit weird."  
"Weird?" Frank frowned with curiosity as he and Ray took their seats.  
"I don't know how exactly, but the car taking Gee from the studio back to the hotel crashed."  
"Crashed? Is Gee hurt?" Frank interrupted, his eyes widening and a flush of panic rising in his chest.  
"No," Mikey replied quickly, raising his palms in a reassuring gesture. "No, just shock they said, but Ben, the driver, he died."  
"Oh."

Frank flopped back into the chair struggling to come to terms with his initial reaction. While he was saddened to hear of the driver's death he was, at the same time, deeply relieved to hear that Gerard was safe and relatively well. A wave of guilt washed over him that his overwhelming reaction was one of relief and he paused for a few moments while he gathered his thoughts, trying to rationalise and accept his initial response - finally deciding that being relieved his friend was alive and well didn't mean he didn't care about the other man.

"And they have no idea what caused the crash?" Frank queried as Ray sat silently beside him, having heard the details already.  
"No, not at all," Mikey shrugged. "The police were taking statements from witnesses, I guess they'll let us know eventually."  
"Are you okay?" Frank asked the young bassist.  
"Yeah," Mikey nodded, "just a little shaken, that's all."

Frank processed the information, letting go of most of the guilt he felt - he had, after all, no control over his apparently callous response but the fact of the guilt showed him that at least he cared.

"Can we see him?" Frank asked finally.  
"No, there's no point, he's not woken up yet."  
"Not woken up?" Frank sat forward again, surprised at the news. "You said he was okay."

Mikey sighed and shook his head slightly.

"He was, but he was upset. The ambulance crew gave him a sedative, but it didn't last. When he got here... he..." Mikey frowned deeply and lowered his gaze to the floor.b  
"Mikey," Frank frowned with uncertainty as he trailed off. "What happened? What was so weird?"

Mikey's shoulders dropped as he remembered what he had been told on his and Ray's arrival.

"The doctor said he was distressed and rambling, saying really strange things, even for a while after they sedated him."  
"Such as?" Frank prompted; concern clipping his words.

It was clear from his body language that Mikey felt uncomfortable about what he was about to discuss; the fact that Frank and even Ray were staring at him didn't make him feel any better.

"He kept saying, '_It's_ _him_, _he's_ _here_!' and '_Can't_ _you_ _see_ _him_?'," Mikey sighed and looked to the side. "He was screaming for them to get someone away from him. He said that his driver had been murdered as he drove... that... all the life was sucked out of him."

Mikey dropped his head into his hands. Immediately, Ray and Frank moved to his side, comforting the younger Way.

"I'm really worried about him," he whispered in a hollow tone. "His... his mental health."  
"Mikey, he would have been in shock." Frank placed an arm around the bassist. "He'd just been in a crash and possibly even seen Ben get killed. Shock's a terrible thing. Give him time to rest. I'm sure when he wakes he'll be fine."  
"Yeah?" Mikey looked up; he needed Frank to be right.  
"He's right, Mikes," Ray added. "A cousin of mine was in a crash and he reacted really strangely at first."  
"Seeing things?" Mikey asked, hopefully.

The moment he hesitated Ray knew he should have simply lied but it wasn't in his nature.

"Not specifically that, no," he sighed as he saw Mikey's crestfallen expression. "But everyone's different."  
"He'll be fine," Frank added, again nodding firmly in case it helped him accept the idea.

"Hmm," Mikey nodded; now needing a change of topic - empty reassurances weren't helping him.  
"Have either of you been able to get hold of Bob yet?" Frank asked.  
"I probably sent him about a dozen messages but I forgot he's giving an interview to Modern Drummer magazine," Mikey sighed with a slight shrug. "He's probably switched his phone off."

Frank nodded; but at least the messages were there for when he finished the interview.

"Here," Ray passed one of the coffees to Mikey with a reassuring smile. "Drink that. Gee'll be fine when he wakes up. You'll see."

Mikey offered a faint smile and nod in return. Ray was almost certainly right, but he'd feel a lot better when he saw it for himself.

*

Gerard opened his eyes and looked around the room nervously. Above his bed the light flickered menacingly, the monitors stood or lay beside the bed, dusty and broken and beyond the room the corridor was dark and empty with an occasional flash of other flickering lights, briefly illuminating the hallway in an eerie blueish glow. Pushing the covers back, Gerard eased his legs out of the bed, noting to his disgust and surprise his hospital gown too was dirty and bloodstained.

Edging toward the door, Gerard's heart pounded in his chest, shortening his breath and leaving him lightheaded. The last thing he remembered with any clarity was being forced to lie on a gurney by a paramedic after the crash, but now he had woken in this apparently abandoned hospital. As he reached the door, moving carefully to avoid stepping on any broken glass, he realised he was trembling slightly.

"This isn't real! It's a dream!" he yelled in an attempt to wake himself up. "Just like the last one."

The only problem was that it all felt very real - the cold on his feet and bare legs, his nervousness, and the sweat beads forming on his brow.

"Oh, I think you'll find this is very real, and so am I," came a sinister voice behind him.

Gerard jerked his head to his left; turning quickly and steadying himself against the doorframe, he could make out a dark shape in the corner of the room that had previously gone unnoticed by him.

"Who are you?" Gerard snapped; his tone edged with tension. "Where am I?"  
"You know precisely who I am. I am your creation, The Dreamcatcher." The shape laughed as it moved forward to reveal the same person who had mocked and taunted him at the scene of the accident.

Gerard stared, his expression one of disbelief as his own comic book creation stepped closer and laughed at him. No longer was he transparent or intangible. He stood now only a few feet away, exactly as he had pictured him, exactly as Hernandez had drawn him and, in his disbelief, fascination and astonishment, Gerard was finding it impossible to even look away.

"What do you want?" he finally asked.

Even as the words left his lips, he felt foolish; this wasn't real, it couldn't be.

He didn't see it coming. There was no hint or sign that it was about to happen. Launching himself forward, the Dreamcatcher's fist caught Gerard squarely on the jaw, sending him spinning backwards and to the floor. Landing awkwardly, Gerard's left arm and hip hit the floor, sliding and rolling across broken glass causing multiple minute lacerations, all now bleeding, the bright red blood oozing slowly from the many cuts and scratches. Gripping his arm in pain, Gerard grimaced as the Dreamcatcher continued.

"Yes, I'll enjoy destroying you, all of you, but you most of all. However, so far, it's proving a little too easy."  
"How are you doing this? Where am I?" Gerard rolled onto his back.

The Dreamcatcher laughed again; a sickening and condescending sound that infuriated Gerard.

"You created me, you know everything about me and yet you have to ask such things?"  
"If I created you, then I can destroy you!" Gerard snapped angrily, pushing himself to his feet.  
"Perhaps, you could have done, at one point." The Dreamcatcher laughed cruelly. "But you can't now. Oh, no, not now, there's too much at stake."  
"What's at stake for me? I'll just write you out of existence," Gerard snapped.

Turning his back on Gerard, The Dreamcatcher walked a few paces then shrugged and raised his arms to the side in a gesture of indifference.

"If you're certain, do whatever you see fit."

Gerard frowned deeply. There was something about his words that mocked him and made the suggestion sound like a challenge.

"Why shouldn't I? You're killing people aren't you? You killed Ben. Why shouldn't I just kill you off like you never existed?"

Turning back and approaching Gerard until they stood only inches apart, a slow smile spread across The Dreamcatcher's face.

"Ask yourself this, and I'll warn you now, do it regularly, '_Where_ _are_ _my_ _friends_?'"

Gerard's eyes widened in horror at the words and the implicit threat contained within them but his reaction was cut short as the Dreamcatcher seized him by the throat and pushed him out into the corridor and up against the opposite wall. Gerard strained to pull his fingers away from around his neck, but, unable to even snatch a breath, his efforts grew weaker with each passing second.

"I'm already strong enough to kill you and I'll keep getting stronger, you know I will. When I'm strong enough," he paused to squeeze a little harder, watching with glee as Gerard's eyes rolled in their sockets. "When I'm strong enough, I'm taking your dreams and the dreams of everyone who looks to you. Then, there'll be nothing and no one to stop me!"

It was unlikely that Gerard even heard his last words. As the grip was released, he sank to the floor unconscious.

*

Bob placed a hand to his head. Dizzy and disorientated, he opened his eyes and slowly looked around. Everything was unfamiliar and he scoured his memories for some clue as to his whereabouts. The last he remembered was returning to the hotel after giving an interview:

_Opening the door to his room, Bob removed his jacket and threw it on the bed. He never really enjoyed giving interviews. It wasn't the talking so much as the cameras. He'd got used to them to some extent over the years, but he doubted he'd ever feel completely comfortable in front of them._

_He was very much a 'back room guy'. He was the drummer, content to hide behind his cymbals. Happy to let Gerard and Frankie perform all the stage antics. Over the years he had seen many changes in the band. He wasn't part of the band during the most difficult times of Gerard's addictions but he had seen it and had witnessed his complete turnaround into a sober and happy man. From his position behind his kit, he had noticed Mikey turn from a shy kid into a confident young man, beloved of girls everywhere. He didn't thrust himself into the limelight like his brother, but he no longer stood at the back of the stage watching his fingers move on the fret board. Frank and Ray? Well, they were just Frank and Ray – always had been, probably always would be._

_Flopping down onto the bed, Bob raised the TV remote and flicked through a dozen channels. There was nothing he wanted to watch. With a sigh, he switched off the TV and rose to make himself a cup of coffee. It was then he heard a noise in the adjacent room._

_"Gerard's back early," he smiled as he headed for the door. He knew all he would have to do would be so say the word 'coffee' and he would have some company._

_Stepping into the corridor, Bob was surprised to find Gerard's door open. His next thought, that it might be housekeeping, was dismissed as he noticed that no cart stood outside the door. Was it another member of staff? A fan? Of course it could just be Gerard, but him leaving the door open seemed unlikely. Nevertheless, Bob made a mental note to proceed cautiously._

_"Gee?" Bob called as he entered the room and quickly passed the bathroom and wardrobe._

_As he reached the bedroom, he glanced around but could see no one. Shaking his head, he frowned at what he realised must have been his imagination, but it still didn't explain why the door was open. His last memory came at that point as a crushing blow to his head and neck. As he lay, semi-conscious on the floor he felt the oddest sensation of shrinking and physically draining away. Had he also been drugged? There was no more time to consider what was happening to him as he slipped into unconsciousness._

Bob now got to his feet, somewhat shakily, and looked around his surroundings. It was a small room, but one without a door. Three of the walls were plain white and utterly featureless, but the remaining wall and part of the ceiling was a solid black - somehow too solid. To the touch, it felt warm with a strange rubbery flexibility to it.

As he held his arm out to touch the black wall, Bob's blood ran cold as he noticed that his hand was a deathly shade of white. Pushing up his sleeve he could see to his horror and dismay that everything - his clothes, his watch, his skin, everything, was completely monochrome and devoid of all colour. Sinking back against one of the white walls, he tried to take in and understand what was happening to him. Was he dead?


	4. The Weirdest Thing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard wakes but convincing the guys of the impossible is just that

Still sitting in the private waiting room, away from the possibility of the prying eyes of paparazzi and even their fans, Frank, Ray and Mikey spent the next twenty minutes in virtual silence as they waited for Gerard to wake. Ray pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped his hand lightly on his leg, growing impatient as he checked for messages or voicemails, coming up empty with both. Looking up, he noticed a small sign on the wall reminding visitors that cell phones should not be used within the hospital. He sighed, readying himself for the long walk to the hospital entrance and past any number of people who might recognise him. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem, but at the present moment he didn’t need any delays today. He just wanted to call Bob, speak to him as quickly as possible and get back

“I’m gonna try calling Bob again,“ he announced pushing himself out of the deep sofa.

Frank nodded by way of acknowledgement while Mikey looked up and smiled at he gesture.

“Gee’ll be okay, Mikey,” Ray offered reassuringly. “It’s just the shock that’s caused him to act a bit weird. Once he’s rested, he’ll be fine.”

Mikey nodded. “I hope so.”

While he appreciated Ray’s well-intended comments, he knew that he’d only be truly happy when Gerard woke and he could see for himself that all was well.

Stepping from the small waiting room, Ray headed down the long corridor towards the main exit, thankful that the route was relatively straightforward and only involved one elevator.

As the automatic doors opened ahead of him, allowing three people wearing scrubs, and four people that possibly might be visitors, hospital administration staff or doctors, into the outpatient reception. Adjusting his stride to move around them, Ray stepped outside.

Glad of the fresh air, despite the afternoon rain, Ray plucked his phone from his pocket once more, frowning as he saw that there were still no missed calls or messages. Pressing redial, Ray waited as he heard the ringing tone over and over with no reply until once again it kicked into voicemail.

“Bob, what the hell, man!” Ray fumed, venting his frustration with both the situation and the lack of response. “This is like the tenth message I’ve left you! Gerard’s in the hospital, we’re all here. Call us!”

Pressing the cancel button angrily, Ray sighed in frustration, his shoulders dropping as almost immediately he lost his anger. It wasn’t that Ray never got angry, it just took a lot to bring it out in him. But in this instance, as soon as he hung up his anger dissipated to be replaced by concern. This simply wasn’t like Bob. His interview should have been over hours ago, his phone was switched on, what the hell could he be doing? But a more worrying thought seeped into Ray’s mind - was something wrong?

Ray glanced up and looked out into the rain as he pondered the possibility. Around him, the entrance to the hospital was buzzing with activity. Ambulances and cabs pulling up; staff, outpatients and visitors scurried in and out, keeping their heads bowed in an attempt to remain dry and patients in dressing gowns and outdoor shoes popping out for a smoke huddled in dry corners.

Amongst all the activity, Ray noticed a solitary figure standing on the opposite side of the street, apparently staring at him. There was something about the man that felt strange to him. At first he couldn’t put his finger on it but as he continued to look, he noticed the man was motionless, his entire body completely unmoving. Not even a hair moved in the breeze. What had, at first, looked like a long coat now showed itself to be a cloak with the hood down. The man appeared somehow to be very real yet at the same time frozen like a life-sized cardboard cut out similar to those used to advertise movies. The more Ray stared, it felt the less he could see and the man almost seemed to fade from view before becoming vibrant once more, the pattern repeating itself as Ray took a few paces closer.

The intensity of the man’s stare unnerved him but he found himself staring back, unable to look away, a deep chill settling into his bones as he stood in the rain, almost as still as the man watching him.

*

Frank and Mikey both looked up as the door opened expecting to see Ray returning from making his call. The pair jumped to their feet as Gerard’s doctor walked in.

“Any news?” asked Mikey quickly, almost breathlessly, causing Frank to glance with concern in his direction.  
“He’s awake, you can see him if you like,” the doctor replied, kindly.  
“Is he…,” Mikey paused, unsure if he really wanted to ask the question. “Is he okay?”  
“He’s asking for you,” the doctor replied, non-commital.  
“Yes, but…” Mikey began not really wanting to push further.  
“Mikes,” Frank spoke gently as he took his arm. “Let’s go see him.”

Mikey nodded, still concerned over how his brother would react when he saw him. Turning to Frank, he nodded before stopping in the doorway.

“Should we find Ray first?”

As much as he wanted to see Gerard, even Mikey knew that the question was a delaying tactic of sorts. More than anything he wanted his brother to be okay, but he was worried that perhaps seeing Ben, the driver, die in front of him had had a real detrimental effect on his mental health. His earlier insistence that some invisible person was following him and had caused the crash, had seemed to confirm it. Mikey desperately hoped it was simply the shock and the rest would have restored him to reality. Despite being his hope, there was part of him that was afraid to find out.

“No, it’s okay,” Frank replied with a comforting smile aware that as much as Mikey wanted to see his brother, he was also scared of how he would find him. “He knows where his room is. When he gets back he’ll find us.”  
“Yeah,” Mikey replied, his voice only a fraction above a whisper.

It was only a short walk to Gerard’s room, thankfully a private room in a quiet part of the hospital, and pushing the door open, Frank entered first waving cheerily to Gerard, who was now sitting up in bed. Following behind, Mikey stared anxiously, noting that although the colour had largely returned to his previously deathly pale cheeks. To Mikey’s eyes, however, Gerard still appeared quite stressed and uncomfortable.

“How are you feeling?” Mikey asked tentatively.  
“Where’s Ray? And Bob?” Gerard asked urgently, ignoring Mikey’s question.  
“It’s okay, Gee,” Frank began. “Ray’s outside.”  
“And Bob?” Gerard pressed, appearing agitated, his eyes widening and his head looking back and forth between his brother and his friend. “I have to know.”

Mikey heaved a sigh; Gerard was apparently still not himself.

“Everything’s okay. You have to calm down. I know it was traumatic…”  
“Mikes, where are they? It’s important. Please!” Gerard insisted.

Patting Mikey on the back, Frank stepped forward.

“Gee, it’s ok,” he nodded to emphasise the words. “Ray’s outside, he’s calling Bob.”

Gerard chewed his lower lip. The words were spoken with such sincerity and understanding that for a brief moment he felt that perhaps he was worrying over nothing. Then as he considered the words, he began to frown once more.

“But do you actually know where Bob is?” He asked, pursing his lips in concern.

“Well,” Frank began tilting his head, disappointed that he wasn’t able to be more specific and knowing that the response would cause Gerard further stress, “we’ve not reached him yet, but…”

Shaking his head, Gerard grabbed the bed covers and throwing them back, he swung his legs out, pushing himself unsteadily to his feet.

“Whoa!” Frank threw up his hands. “Where do you think you’re going?”  
“Mikey,” he pointed to the closet, “hand me my clothes.”  
“Gee,” Mikey sighed unhappily. “Please…”  
“Mikey, I’m not traumatised and,” he turned to look at Frank, “I’m not crazy either. Trust me on this, someone is after us and we have to find Bob.”  
“Gee, it was a dream, that’s all,” Frank replied. “No one’s after us. Don’t you understand?”  
“For fuck’s sake, Frank!” Gerard cried angrily. “Don’t patronise me! I’ve seen him, I’ve spoken to him!”

Frank frowned; either this was for real, or Gerard was worse than they had previously thought.

“Who?” He asked, uncertain what to think. “When? You’ve been asleep since you were brought in!”  
“The Dreamcatcher. He’s already killed Ben and maybe others. Every time he kills, he gets stronger and he’s coming for us!”

Spinning on his heels, Mikey lowered his stinging eyes and quickly left the room, almost choking on the lump in his throat. Gerard opened his mouth to speak but stopped abruptly. It was as if he had heard himself for the first time and finally realised how he sounded. Staring at the closed door for a few moments, Gerard turned bank to Frank, his expression one of sombre contemplation.

“Look, I know it sounds crazy,” he began, allowing himself to perch on the side of the bed as he began to feel woozy once more.  
“Yeah,” Frank nodded. “I’m glad you noticed.”  
“Frank, you’ve got to believe me,” Gerard began, trying to sound as sincere as he was able. “He was here!”  
“When?” Frank asked, hoping the response would either help to explain what was going on or help Gerard see the impossibility of it.  
“When I was asleep!” Gerard explained before sighing as again, he heard the words as Frank must be hearing them. “Trust me, Frank, this is real.”  
“I know you think it is, Gee, but can you see it from our point of view?” Frank replied.  
“I know,” he nodded, “I know how it looks. And I want to be wrong, I really do, but I really don’t think I am.”

Chewing on his lip thoughtfully, Frank nodded.

“Okay, but you do know you’re telling me that a comic book character is real? And you know that’s... shall we say, not normally possible?”

Gerard nodded sadly. He felt foolish, but something within him told him he was right and that no matter what, he needed to convince them.

“Yeah. I don’t know how, but I know he’s real and he killed Ben.”

Frank took a deep breath. Was Gerard having a trauma induced psychotic break, as the doctor had suggested when they had originally spoken? If so, would hearing what really happened help or just make things worse? There was only one way to find out. Hoping for the best, Frank continued.

“Okay, the doctor told us earlier that Ben had a heart attack at the wheel. He passed out and hit his head as he slumped forward. The car went out of control and the crash killed him. You weren’t wearing your seatbelt. You were thrown from the car! Do you know how lucky you were to survive?”  
“No,” Gerard shook his head vigorously, ignoring Frank’s pointed remark. “No, that’s not what happened. I fell asleep in the car. When I woke up we were driving through deserted streets with broken, run down buildings. Ben was already dead at the wheel and a turn was coming. I couldn’t reach the wheel to stop the crash.”  
“Gee, you crashed into a traffic signal on a busy street. You were thrown from the car. Maybe you hit your head?”  
“Damn it, Frank, this is real! I saw him! I’ve seen him four times now. I just spoke to him!”  
“Just?” Frank queried, unhappily as he considered the impossibility of Gerard’s statement. “While you were asleep?”  
“Yeah! He… I…,” Gerard lowered his head. “Okay, I know it seems impossible, but…”  
“Gee, if it seems impossible, do you think that maybe it is?” Frank asked, his voice dropping to defuse some of the agitation he felt and to hopefully get Gerard to really hear him.  
“Look, just do me a favour, please?”  
“Sure?” Frank replied with a tired expression etched on his face.  
“Find Ray; ask him if he’s got hold of Bob yet. If he has, then this was all a dream and I’ll shut up. If he hasn’t, I’m not going to let this go, Frank because as crazy as it sounds, it’s real.”

Frank nodded grimly. Ray was almost certainly standing with Mikey outside the room trying to comfort him. Hopefully, this would be over in minutes and Gerard would realise it was all an unpleasant dream.

“Okay, Gee, I’ll ask him. I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay? But I want you to get back into bed.”

The pair stared at each other for a few moments; Gerard still quite anxious and unwilling to concede.

“Gee,” Frank pushed. “Trust me, I’ll speak to him.”

Gerard nodded and sighed as he edged further back onto the bed.

“In the bed, Gee, not on it,” Frank insisted.

A quiet beeping sound emanated from Frank’s pocket and he felt the light vibration against his leg. Glancing down, he pulled out the phone, at the same time praying that the message was from Bob.

“There,” Frank smiled with relief as he held the phone at arms length for Gerard to read. “Does that make you feel any better?”

Gerard read the contents of the text message, which was obviously from Bob’s phone.

_Hey, dude. Were u trying 2 call me? Sorry, had it on silent. Interview overran. Heading back to hotel. See you l8r._

“Feel better?” Frank asked with a smile.  
Gerard nodded. “I... I’m sorry, Frank. I… I really…”  
“I don’t need an apology, I just want you to be okay. Now, I’ll go find Ray. Do you want me to send Mikey back in?”  
“Please,” Gerard sighed hopelessly. “He thinks I’m crazy.”  
“You’re not crazy,” Frank smiled in return. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Heading back out into the corridor, Frank was surprised to see Mikey sitting alone; his head buried in his hands, wet with silent tears. Looking up as Frank joined him, Mikey turned bloodshot eyes towards his friend.

“I don’t understand.”  
“It’s okay, Mikes, he’s snapped out of it now. He must have just carried on the dream in his mind after he woke.”  
“You’re sure?” he asked with a faint smile.  
“Yeah, he’s asking for you. I’ll go find Ray, let him know.”

The expression on Mikey’s face was a picture of pure joy, and to Frank’s mind, was worth the white lie. As he walked down the corridor towards the exit, he wondered to himself how Gerard had become so absolutely certain over such a ludicrous idea. Even though he believed that Gerard was imagining the whole thing, Ray’s prolonged absence had begun to worry him. His concern grew more intense as he saw a large crowd of people gathered at the entrance to the hospital. Pushing his way through the crowd, Frank was astonished to see Ray, standing absolutely still, in the pouring rain in the middle of the drop off zone. From what Frank could see of his darkened clothes and hair plastered against his head, he appeared soaked to the skin and had evidently been there for quite some time; long enough to draw a crowd of onlookers. Running over, Frank caught him by the arms and shook him, with no response.

“Ray!” he shouted, then louder. Ray!”

Slowly, Ray turned a blank expression towards Frank. Blinking once, it was if his focus suddenly returned and he was aware of everything.

“I’m soaked!” he cried in bewilderment. “How…”

Frank glanced briefly in the direction that Ray had been staring, but there was nothing and no one to see.

“Ray?” he was lost for words. “Let’s get you inside.”

Following easily, Ray reached forward and pulled Frank’s arm back to attract his attention.

“What the hell was I doing out there?”  
“I don’t know,” Frank admitted with a frown. “Did you get through to Bob?”  
“No, at least, I don’t think so.” Ray looked down, the phone was still clutched tightly in his palm; there were no missed calls or messages. “No, doesn’t look like it. I don’t remember speaking to him.”  
“Come on, we gotta get you dried off.”  
“How’s Gee?”  
‘He’s okay, he’s awake.” Frank paused. “Ray, what were you staring at?”  
“I don’t know. I think it might have been a man, but I couldn’t see him properly. He wasn’t far away, but,” Ray sighed, “he just didn’t seem to stay in focus and then… I don’t remember. That’s too weird isn’t it?”  
“Well,” Frank shook his head with a deep frown. “It’s not the weirdest thing I’ve heard today. I think I need to speak to Gerard again.”


	5. This is Real!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys have very little time to come to terms with what’s happening

“This is too freaking weird!” Bob exclaimed holding both arms out in front of him, staring at the absence of colour in, not only his skin, but his clothes too were a mass of whites, greys and blacks. It seemed beyond impossible and the terrifying possibility that he might be dead crossed his mind more than once. He dismissed the idea each time it drifted into his brain - he could feel his heart beating, in fact it was pounding so hard in his chest it felt like his ribs may crack under the pressure. Surely he wouldn’t experience that if he were dead? Of course, he had no way of knowing, but he wanted to... no, he had to assume he was alive. Not only was he alive but he would get back home - somehow.

Stepping back a few paces, he tried hard not to panic but his breathing was already coming in short erratic bursts. It was only when he began to feel light-headed that he realised that he couldn’t be pulling in near enough air into his lungs.

_Air!_

That one simple realisation caused his heart to pump faster still and he almost passed out with the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing around his body.

The room was sealed completely; no doors no windows. And so small; there was no way he’d last for more than a few hours if he continued to panic. Realising that his life may depend on it, Bob forcibly tried to calm himself; taking a few precious deep breaths to restore his equilibrium. Supporting himself in his panicked state by placing one hand on one of the walls, he concentrated solely on stilling his mind and slowing his breathing, trying desperately not to think about suffocating in the tiny sealed room. Opening his eyes once more, Bob took several more slow, deep breaths and tried hard to look at the situation logically.

“This just isn’t possible,” he stated, still somewhat breathless. “There has to be a door! I got in here somehow, so I should be able to get out.”

Beginning to calm, Bob pushed a hand through his hair in exasperation before moving slowly around the small, dark, featureless room, running his fingers along the three pale walls searching for the elusive exit, expecting to find a hidden door, switch or something of that nature. Standing back a pace after an unsuccessful search, Bob shook his head; his brow furrowed in confusion.

“This can’t be happening,” he sighed.  
“And yet it is.”

Turning sharply, he felt certain that the voice had come from behind him, near the one black wall. Searching for the source of the voice, Bob narrowed his eyes, finally deciding that there was no one in the room with him and that perhaps the sound was coming through a hidden speaker.

“Where are you?” he called, his voice displaying a nervous edge as he looked around looking for some sign. “Who are you?”

At first, nothing seemed to be happening, but Bob gasped and stepped back, nervous and on high alert, as he noticed the deep impenetrable blackness of the wall now in front of him and part of the ceiling began to fade. Presented with something akin to a two-way mirror, Bob realised that he could be observed but he couldn’t see out. But now as the blackness cleared, he could see the source of the voice clearly.

Staring up, Bob was confronted by a man so tall he could easily have scooped him up in the palm of his hand. If he had to guess, he would have put the height of the man at nearly sixty feet tall. The giant possessed shoulder-length black hair, mostly straight with a slight wave to it near the ends. His dark olive skin suggested Mediterranean, perhaps of Spanish or Italian origin but his accent seemed to confirm Spanish. His dark eyes and unpleasant sneer would have been unnerving under normal circumstances, but as Bob stared up at the unnaturally tall man, he was terrified.

Standing at a little less than six feet, Bob estimated that the man’s looming face was easily as long if not more. Losing power in his trembling muscles, Bob lost his balance as the shock seeped into every inch of his body, and he was forced to take a step back to reset himself. Even then he felt he might collapse under the weight of his terror.

He told himself that this couldn’t be real - any moment he would wake, he was certain. At least, he hoped. Once again, Bob felt his breathing coming to him in short, shallow gasps as he snatched for elusive air. Finally able to look away, Bob looked beyond the threatening figure standing over him, desperate to find an escape route.  
Behind the giant lay an equally oversized room filled with huge stacks of paper, and enormous pens, art supplies and a couple of easels.

There really was only one way out and that was straight ahead and past the giant man lowering over him. Part of him kept repeating that this was just a dream, a horrible, weird, freaky dream. Another part of him knew it was real - somehow.

Preparing himself to bolt from the tiny room, Bob found his legs uncooperative. In his terror, they were initially simply unresponsive. One more concerted effort saw him running forward and breaking for freedom, but no sooner had he fled the room than he found himself teetering on the brink of a very long drop, possibly thirty or forty feet with only what appeared to be a thick plank of wood under his feet.

With a deeply unnerving laugh, the man raised an unimaginably large finger and, with an ink-stained fingertip, pushed Bob back into the tiny room. The drummer staggered backwards, now unable to properly coordinate his limbs, he crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath as he pushed himself upright and gazed up, his eyes wide and fearful.

“Did you really think it would be that easy to escape?”  
“Wh… who are you?” Bob repeated, the words stumbling from his mouth. “What are you?”

The figure laughed at Bob’s words and his distress. He could see that if Bob had been physically able to grow paler, he would have.

“I am your jailor, but you would do better to ask yourself what you are.”  
“What do you mean?” Bob asked, bewildered by the reply. “Who are you? Where am I?”

The man shrugged nonchalantly and gestured casually outward with his palms up.

“Ask the correct questions and you’ll get your answers,” he added.  
“All right,” Bob snapped at the infuriating responses. “What am I?”  
“You are my prisoner. You are bait. And, ultimately, you are food for my master.”  
“I’m what!” Bob gasped at the final comment, his blue eyes widening still further.  
“You and your friends will be his food,” he sneered once more offering an expression of severe distaste. “From all of you, he will extract enough energy to take over the world. No one will be able to stop him. No one.”

As Bob gaped, deep in shock at the man’s words, the wall began to fade to black once more.

“Wait!” Bob shouted, reaching out a hand to call his attention. “Where am I? How did I get here?”  
“You really don’t know?” The man laughed. “Are you certain, or do you simply not wish to face it?”  
Bob frowned angrily as he continued to stare up. “Where am I?” he repeated, emphasising each word individually.

The man gave a condescending laugh at Bob’s distress.

“You are now a character in Way’s comic book. You can be seen but, after I close down this window, you can’t see out. There is no way out for you, you’re trapped here. You can’t even shout for help.” He laughed again before correcting himself. “Well, you can, but no one will hear you; the pages aren’t lettered yet. Your foolish friend has taken on more than he can handle this time. He is way out of his depth with me and with this comic book. It will be his last mistake.”  
“Who are you?” Bob demanded, terror and anger now jostling for pole position.  
“I am Vincent Hernandez; Way’s artist. And there is the beauty of this trap - he will walk into it blindly, like the unsuspecting fool he is. As you all are!”

As Hernandez stepped back, the wall faded to black once more, leaving Bob trapped in the comic’s panel, staring with a mixture of fear and fury at the realisation that the others were also in grave danger.

*

Ray and Frank walked slowly back to Gerard’s room. There were some questions Frank wanted to ask and others, he had to admit, he was afraid to. Ray, soaked to the skin and chilling more with each step as they walked, adopted an uncharacteristically gloomy demeanour, wishing he could be somehow instantly warm and dry.

“So,” Ray finally asked trying to distract himself. “Is Gee okay? You said he’s awake.”  
“Yeah,” Frank replied distractedly. “Well, no… yeah… I’m beginning to think he might be.”

Ray rubbed his neck and frowned; Frank was making no sense to him at all. This was something Frank often did - he would consider something silently to himself then start to talk about it with the assumption that the listener had some knowledge of his prior deliberations.

“Frank…” Ray began hesitating momentarily. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Frank looked up, at first puzzled by the response, his brow and nose crinkled. Alongside him, Ray walked, staring at him with a baffled expression. Sucking in his lower lip before stopping in the centre of the corridor only yards from Gerard’s room, Frank realised Ray’s confusion and nodded.

“What would you say if I said Gee’s seen the same guy you did before?”  
“Where?” Ray asked, no less puzzled.  
“No,” Frank shook his head and gesturing in a similar way with his hand, waving it side to side sharply. “You’re not getting it. Gee is saying that there’s a guy after us, that he’s spoken to him.”  
“Okay,” Ray dragged out the word as he spoke, using the time to try to understand Frank’s point. “And who is it? And why?”  
“The guy you saw!” Frank waved his arm in the general direction of the hospital entrance. “Before? When I found you in a fucking trance!”

Frowning, Ray narrowed his eyes and shifted his feet, reluctant to admit, even to himself, that the bizarre event he had experienced was anything to be concerned about.

“I wasn’t in a trance,” he argued with discomfort in his tone.  
“Really? What were you doing then?”  
“Look, I don’t know, I don’t remember…” Ray replied, unable to sound convincing.  
“Anyway, that’s probably beside the point,” Frank cut in waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. “The guy you saw, I think he’s the one Gerard was talking about.”  
“So... this guy’s after us?” Ray repeated with a dose of scepticism in his voice. “Well, does he know who it is? Or why?”

Frank’s shoulders sagged; this was the moment he was about to look as crazy as Gerard had earlier.

“He says it’s The Dreamcatcher.”

Ray smiled, faintly at first, then his grin broadened.

“Frank…” he laughed outright. “Are you for real? The Dreamcatcher? He’s fictional!”  
“Yeah,” Frank shrugged, hardly able to believe he had spoken the words. “I know how it sounds. I’ve already had this conversation with Gee.”  
“No,” Ray replied simply, with a shake of his head. “I can just about accept that he believes it. He’s probably in shock or had a bump to the head, but you?”  
“Ray, I know how this…”  
“I really don’t think you do, Frank,” Ray corrected.

A loud crash from Gerard’s room pierced the quiet of the corridor and cut through their conversation. Both Frank’s and Ray’s heads snapped up in alarm and forgetting their discussion in an instant, the two guitarists ran the remaining few feet to the room, gasping in astonishment as they threw open the door.

“Gee!” Frank cried, racing forward to assist his friend lying possibly unconscious on the floor near the bed.

The room was in complete disarray - machines monitoring Gerard’s heart and blood pressure had been pushed to the floor, the screens cracked and no longer functioning. The sheets were pulled from the bed and hanging down on one side. The water jug lay smashed with small puddles and splashes water and shards of glass lay dashed across the floor. The curtain around the bed was soaked and had been half pulled from the rail and above them some of the lights were either broken or flickering, plunging half the room into semi-darkness.

Checking his pulse before looking up at Ray, Frank continued. “He’s alive, but he needs a doctor!”

As Ray ran from the room to alert the hospital staff, Frank saw that one of the monitor cables was wrapped around Gerard’s neck. Alarmed, he began to ease it away as gently but as quickly as he could, causing the singer to groan at the sensation. Frowning with deep concern, Frank now spied the marks left around Gerard’s throat that testified to how tightly the cable had been pulled around him. Almost as soon as it was removed, he began to move - thrashing weakly and gasping for air.

“Gee, it’s okay, it’s me,” Frank gripped Gerard’s arms to protect himself from his distraught flailing.

Finally becoming aware, Gerard clutched Frank’s arm and turned wild, terrified eyes towards the younger man.

“He… he was here… again…” he managed to choke out the words.  
“The Dreamcatcher?”  
Gerard nodded. “He’s real, Frank, he really is. You’ve got to believe me. I didn’t do this!”  
“Where’s Mikey?” Frank asked, hoping his distressed friend’s brother could offer additional comfort.

Disregarding the pain in his neck, Gerard turned widened eyes quickly around the room.

“Mikey!” he yelled, pushing himself to his feet. “Mikey!”

Staggering to the foot of the bed, Gerard could see instantly that they were the only ones in the room.

“This is real, Frank! He’s got Mikey!” Gerard insisted; his anxiety level soaring.

Frank nodded grimly, not quite believing he was about to voice his next words.

“I believe you.”


	6. Mikey in Comic Book Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey wakes, but what to?

Consciousness found Mikey, rather than the other way around and despite slowly beginning to wake, awareness of his surroundings eluded him completely. In fact, it was doubtful that he realised that he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet. He felt groggy, weak and drained. Slowly he edged his hand to his neck, giving it a gentle massage where it still ached and even stung a little. At first it seemed that a bad night’s sleep was to blame; but it wasn’t long before he remembered a little about the attack. He grimaced as he recalled standing in Gerard’s hospital room, still somewhat worried for his sanity, despite Frank’s assurance that all was well.

At the last moment before the attack, when he now remembered something sharp and painful being plunged into the area between his neck and shoulder, he recalled Gerard’s horrified expression as his brother had stared past him. Before he had even had the chance to turn, to see what had worried Gerard so much, he had felt deep sting of something, possibly a small knife, penetrating his skin. The combined shock and pain had snatched the breath from his mouth and with it any chance of crying out. He remembered his knees sagging, his whole body feeling limp and, unable to support himself, crashing to the floor. Perhaps the worst sensation was what followed - a terrible sinking feeling as if his very essence was draining away before his world blackened. 

Now, amazed simply to be alive and basically unharmed, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, trying to wake, but the complication of feeling nauseous and disorientated continued to work to delay the process. Even now, without being fully aware, Mikey knew he was lying somewhere outside on the ground. It was hard and cold, yet the covering of soft soil and moss almost left him with a feeling of comfort. Slowly pushing himself to his knees, Mikey realised that he had probably lain there for some time; the cold had seeped into his bones and every movement ached with it. Looking around and gathering his senses, he could now see that, wherever he was, it was night and he was kneeling in a forest with tall trees and overgrown grasses and vines all around him. There wasn’t anything particularly unusual about the forest to look at, but there was an inexplicable stillness and silence in the air. Where he was exactly, or how he had ended up there were mysteries to him, but the fact was he was there. Alone, sore and scared. 

Pushing himself to his feet, Mikey took a deep breath before beginning to walk in, what he hoped was, the right direction. As he took his first few steps a low mist began to appear, snaking its way through the trees or appearing to ooze from the ground itself. The mist was quite thin at first, almost unnoticeable, but within a few more steps, Mikey noticed that it was growing thicker by the second until his could no longer see where he was stepping. It unnerved him to think that he might step unwittingly into a hole or a trap at any moment and his steps grew increasingly tentative. Gently feeling for solid ground under easy footfall and trying hard not to slip on the damp moss that seemed to cling to most surfaces.

Around him, as if to increase the tension, the old gnarled tree trunks he was now passing stood twisted into eerie shapes and faces appeared out of the thick ground mist only to disappear just as suddenly when the fog swirled. Distant sounds of cracking twigs unnerved the young bassist as his imagination suggested to him that he was being watched.

Mikey stood still, holding his breath, desperate to make no noise as he listened carefully to the sounds around him. He soon realised that it was not his imagination and that somewhere off in the distance, he could hear the sound of footsteps moving steadily towards him. Turning his head, he grimaced in frustration; the sounds were getting louder and he knew they were coming closer, but the way the sound moved, bouncing through the trees and dulled by the ever thickening fog, he was finding it impossible to work out from which direction the sound was coming. Backing up slowly so it wouldn’t be quite so easy for whoever or whatever it was to see him, Mikey pressed himself up against a tree. Breathing heavily and deeply, he tried hard to keep his own noise, both internal and external to a minimum. Despite all the difficulties, he had to discover the source of the sound of the footsteps and escape them.

The attack came in an unexpected and unheralded flurry of action. The first he knew about it was a faint whipping sound but the full horror of what was now happening didn’t become apparent until the long vine that had been hanging from the tree wrapped itself quickly and tightly around him and the trunk, pinning Mikey’s arms and holding him firm. Mikey’s cry of surprise was out before he realised it and he cursed himself for giving himself away, despite the shock of the apparently live vine.

“Mikey?” a distant voice called.  
“Bob!” Mikey yelled hopeful that he could find him by following his voice.

Sighing with some relief that his mysterious stalker was, in fact, his friend, but still unnerved by the apparently sentient vine, Mikey bent his arms at the elbows, and tugged hard on the vine, trying to release himself. If he had entertained the idea that it was a freak accident, Mikey was about to find himself sorely mistaken as much too fast for him to see, a second much thinner vine snaked up from the ground and quickly wound itself around his wrists as he tried to pull free. Mikey gasped in surprise moments before the second vine then pulled down again, dragging his hands to waist level, preventing him from even touching the vine securing him to the tree. Struggling furiously, Mikey tried to edge his back down the bark of the tree in the hope of sliding out from under the vine. But with each inch Mikey managed to shuffle down, the vine around his chest and arms grew tighter until he could barely breathe, let alone move. Initially unknown to him, a two more vines now slid around his ankles and knees. drawing themselves into tight loops.

“Bob! Help!” Mikey cried urgently hoping his friend would find him before the vines crushed him. “Hel..!”

Cut short, it was his final call for help as another vine crashed into his mouth as he opened wide to scream the word. His head jarred back at the motion, crashing heavily with the tree trunk, forced back by the vine as it continued to wrap around the tree. Momentarily, Mikey’s legs sagged as the pain from the back of his head drew all his strength away. He didn’t know if it had seemed to the vines to be a fresh attempt to escape or it would have happened regardless, but another three vines wound their crushing grip around his legs and waist, pulling him firm against the tree. Still trying desperately to struggle, Mikey knew it was useless, the vines could adapt and with every movement he was held even more securely than before. 

The final vine rose up before his eyes swaying lightly like a cobra about to attack, almost mocking him. Mikey eyed it nervously, wondering what it would do; more than aware that there was nothing he could do to stop it. His eyes followed its almost hypnotic movement, before it sank a few inches and edged slowly forward. Mikey’s eyes widened in terror as the realisation of was about to happen hit him with the force of a hammer blow. Silenced by the thick vine deep inside his mouth and held securely, Mikey squeezed his eyes shut; helpless against the new vine that now circled his neck and slowly began to constrict into a suffocating grip.

*

Gerard stared back, almost blankly at Frank and was, for a few moments, unable to speak.

“You believe me?” he asked, surprised and taken aback by Frank’s unexpected statement.  
“Yeah,” Frank shrugged and smiled reassuringly as he helped the singer to his feet. “What happened?”

Gerard took in a deep breath, snatching at it noisily. 

“I’m not sure,” he replied shaking his head wretchedly. “It all happened so fast. I was talking to Mikey and he just appeared behind him.”  
“What… just appeared? You mean… ‘as if by magic’ appeared?”  
Gerard nodded faintly. “Yeah, but even though I’ve seen him before, he’s never been like that before.”   
“What do you mean?” Frank frowned. “Like what?”  
“He’s solid already, strong. He must have killed again to get to that point.”  
“You mean other than Ben?” Frank asked trying to take it all in as if this were the most natural conversation.  
“When I first saw him… well, I didn’t see him. I was just aware of movement, if that makes sense? I couldn’t physically see him, but I was aware of him and I heard him.”  
“Heard him?” Frank queried.  
“He spoke to me. But after Ben’s death, he started appearing in dreams.”  
“So, visible, but not quite solid?”  
“That’s right. But now, he is. He was here looking as solid as you. As soon as he appeared, right behind Mikey, my eyes shot open and I could see that Mikey knew straight away that something was wrong. He didn’t even get a chance to turn around before he stabbed him in the neck with something.”  
“He killed him?” Frank gasped out the words.  
“No!” Gerard held up his hands in a calming gesture. “He’s not dead, I saw him breathing, quite easily, but… I don’t know how to say this.”  
“What happened, Gee?” Growing increasingly concerned by the limited information and with it, his lack of understanding. “Don’t dress it up, just tell me!”  
“He fell, well, dropped like a stone to the floor; he looked pretty crumpled. I was out of bed in a second. I swear, Frank, I never took my eyes off him, but The Dreamcatcher was too quick for me to see.”  
“Then what?” Frank prompted urgently.  
“Before I knew it, he was behind me with the monitor cable wrapped around my neck. I couldn’t breathe!”  
“You passed out?” Frank asked, his voice full of sympathy.  
“Yeah,” Gerard nodded bleakly. “But not before I saw what he’d done to Mikey.”  
“What?” Frank asked; this time his tone was hesitant and uncertain.  
“He was unconscious. That much I could see and he was definitely breathing. But… there was no colour in him at all. And I don’t just mean pale, or his face. I mean, his face, hands, clothes… everything! And…”  
“What?” Frank asked again; too shocked to say more.  
“You’re going to think I’m crazy again.”  
“Gee, tell me!”

Gerard lowered his eyes. This was something he didn’t even believe himself, how could he convince Frank?

“He was about six inches tall.”  
“He was what?” Frank stared in bewilderment. “You mean he was…”

Frank held his hands up at chest height, positioning them to indicate the height that Gerard had described.

“Six inches?” Frank asked again; still unable to absorb the information. “He’d shrunk him?”

Gerard nodded grimly, he too, lost for words.

“No… but… that can’t… you must have imagined it… surely?”  
“Frank, I know what I saw,” Gerard insisted. “I don’t claim to be able to understand it, but…”  
“Six inches tall?” Frank frowned. “Like a GI Joe? A Mikey action figure?”

If it weren’t so serious, Gerard felt sure that he would have laughed. The idea seemed ridiculous, but as strange as it sounded, the fact remained that it was real. Gerard was being forced to face the fact that a homicidal fictional character had somehow come to life and had taken his brother. It was certainly no laughing matter. The more he thought about it, the more he worried.

In these few moments, Frank had grown silent as he weighed the facts as much as he reasonably could. Gerard’s fears and apparent irrational behaviour and reactions had, in fact, proved to be very real and justified. He knew that they would have to find as much information as they could if they were to stand a chance of fighting back. But, for now, there was one more overriding concern that ate away at his thoughts. Apart from the text message he had received, no one had heard from Bob all day, despite several calls and messages left for him. It began to seem to Frank that he had been tricked into believing that all was well. Things were looking very far from well.

“I… I think he might have Bob too,” Frank added, with a slight nod to emphasise his fears.


	7. This is How I Disappear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Mikey get free and the Dreamcatcher moves in on his real target

Trying desperately to breathe, Mikey struggled furiously against the vines wrapped around his wrist and arms. There didn’t appear to be an inch of him that wasn’t moving, wriggling, pulling, twisting, all to no avail. If he could only free even one hand, he believed he would be able to rip the vine from around his neck, but he began to feel as though he was battling some multi-armed creature. No sooner would he start to free himself, than another vine would lash itself to him preventing his escape. 

Somewhere in the distance he felt sure he heard his name being called, but all sounds had become a wash of noise drowned out by the thunderous roar in his ears as he became more and more aware of his blood being pumped at high speed by his racing heart. His coordination and strength began to falter and pin pricks of white light danced on the inside of his eyelids. By now, only the vines were holding him up as he sagged in their grip, losing consciousness with each passing second. He couldn’t give in - he refused to.

In an act of sheer desperation and frustration, Mikey bit down as hard as he was able on the vine settled deep in his mouth and acting as an effective gag. He didn’t really expect it would help at all, but it was something and he needed to try. A shrill, piercing shrieking noise filled the air as the vine in his mouth curled quickly away, whipping up and down wildly, reacting as if in pain. Mikey gasped as it pulled away; half closing his mouth, he felt himself slip forward as all the vines loosened slightly.

“Mikey?”

Bob’s voice filtered through the trees; he sounded close now, but Mikey hung limply, almost unconscious, feeling unable to fight any more. The forest appeared vast and without his help in finding him, it seemed quite possible that Bob would pass by without even noticing him. He had to call out. There was too much of a risk that the vines would recover and finish him off - he had to try.

But even as he tried to raise his head to form the words, the sensation of hands pulling at the living noose at his neck, filtered through, even though he was unable to even acknowledge a presence. Suddenly able to breathe properly again, Mikey gasped for air; coughing as, in his eagerness, he took in too much. 

“Mikey, are you okay? Mikey!”

Mikey glanced up, his eyes almost closed.

“Bob,” he whispered hoarsely.

One by one, Bob snapped and wrenched at the vines holding the young bassist. Finally able to pull his friend clear of the tree, Mikey almost fell against him overcome with relief that Bob had found and freed him.

“Mikey, can you hear me? We have to get out of here. Do you understand?”

Mikey nodded, enthusiastic but weak; the very last thing he wanted to do was to stay put. Leaning heavily on his friend, Mikey allowed himself to be helped and guided to a clearing far enough from the vines to be out of danger. He sat, almost fell on the ground and rubbed his neck as he gathered his strength again.

“Where are we?” he asked still unable to take it all in.

Bob frowned. How could he tell him? The explanation, however true, was outlandish.

“Mikes, we’re in Gerard’s comic book.”

Mikey stared up, almost waiting for Bob to laugh and tell him the real explanation, but he was immediately distracted by the sight of the drummer, devoid of all colour. It was only then that, not only did he notice that he too lacked colour, but their entire surroundings including the forest and vines were all a variety of black, white and greys. To his distress and confusion it dawned on him that Bob wasn’t joking. This was real. 

“You… we… we’re…” Mikey reached for words as he stared up at the sympathetic drummer. Despite his best efforts, the shock of the revelation had snatched all coherent thought from him.  
“Yeah, I was like that too,” he replied with a faint smile as he watched Mikey’s reaction. “When I woke up, I was in this tiny room and…”   
“No...”

Bob stopped speaking as he saw Mikey’s eyes grow wide as he spoke. Turning quickly, Bob was relieved to see nothing behind him and turning back to Mikey, was puzzled by his reaction. 

“What’s wrong?”  
“You’re… you’re as white as snow! So am I!”

Bob nodded and offered a faint smile of understanding. He had freaked out when he had discovered the same thing, what now seemed an eternity ago. Mikey’s own realisation coming immediately after a near death experience only seemed to make matters worse. 

Mikey pushed his hand through his hair, his expression blank as he tried to make sense of what he was being told.

“We’re in Gee’s comic? In it? You mean we’re drawings?” He paused for a moment; there really was only one question remaining, but he doubted his friend had the answer. How?”  
“Mikey,” Bob dropped to one knee and held the bassist’s arms. “I know this is freaky, and I don’t know how this has happened or anything. But I do know we’re stuck here. He’s after all of us. Food for the Dreamcatcher, he said. I remember from reading Gerard’s story draft, it’s that he needs to draw energy from us to boost his own powers.”  
“Gerard’s story?” Mikey gasped, his mind whirling with the information Bob was providing and battling his own guilt at not believing his brother. “I thought he was crazy! When he woke from the crash, he was trying to tell me, but I didn’t listen!”  
“Crash?” Bob’s eyes widened, it was now his turn to be shocked. “What happened? Is he okay?”  
Mikey nodded. “More so than I realised. He was trying to warn us, we thought the crash had done something. You know, he’d hit his head or something.”  
Bob shook his head. “This is all too real. But, Mikes, are you okay now? We have to keep moving, try to find a way out. He can do anything he wants to us, we’re in the comic, all he has to do is draw it.”

Mikey frowned; puzzled by the statement. He was now aware that The Dreamcatcher had somehow come to life, and he could, at a stretch, accept that they had somehow been trapped in the comic, but he was at a loss to know who Bob was referring to.

“Draw? Who? I thought you were talking about the Dreamcatcher?”  
“No... well, yes,” Bob struggled to articulate himself. “Hernandez, the new artist. He’s working for the Dreamcatcher, we’re in his studio now.”

Mikey stared in horror at the revelation. Hearing the words, it made perfect sense, but somehow he had not made the connection.

“Gee doesn’t know Hernandez is involved. He’s going to come here to talk to him about it, isn’t he? He’s going to walk straight into a trap!”

*

While they talked, Gerard had wasted no time getting dressed. He felt perfectly fine, if a little stiff and bruised, but his brother was in danger and very possibly Bob too. He couldn’t stay cooped up in the hospital. He had to find out what was happening and stop it somehow. Propping himself up against the side of the bed and pulling on his boots, Gerard looked up at Frank.

“Where’s Ray?”  
“He went to get a doctor…” Frank began before throwing his head back in concern and frustration. “Oh fuck! That was ages ago!”

Hearing the alarm in Frank’s tone, Gerard pushed himself away from the bed and headed for the door. Frank had already had the same idea and was ahead of him.

In the corridor, the two musicians pulled up sharply as lying on the floor, only a few doors down were three lifeless, pure white bodies.

“He’s here!” Gerard gasped. “This is all my fault.”

Frank pulled the singer around to face him, shocked to see that Gerard’s face was almost as pale as the bodies in the corridor.

“This is not your fault, Gee!” Frank insisted. “You created a character, that’s all. There’s nothing could have prepared you for this. How could you possibly know?”

Gerard nodded, his lips pulled into a thin line as he concentrated on Frank’s words. There really was no way he could have foreseen what was happening. Even in his wildest imagination, it seemed impossible.

“He’s got Ray,” he whispered.  
“Maybe not, not yet,” Frank urged. “Come on! Don’t give up.”  
“I guess we follow the trail,” Gerard replied grimly, pointing to the line of bodies further along the corridor. 

Picking their way respectfully past the bodies, Frank and Gerard broke into a run, almost skidding as they turned the corner. A little further down, lay the body of a nurse, again, with the telltale and unnatural draining of all colour in both her features and clothes. The two friends noted with equal measures of horror and disgust that her arm and fingers had been positioned in death to point down the staircase opposite.

“He’s playing with us,” Gerard commented angrily, through gritted teeth. “He’s killing people just to do this!”  
Nodding unhappily, Frank tapped Gerard’s arm. “Come on, Gee. We have to find him before he kills more.”

Gerard turned his expressive hazel eyes towards his friend. Not a word passed his lips but nothing needed to be said, Frank knew as surely as if he had read his mind what Gerard was thinking.

“No!” Frank snapped, reading the emotion and guilt behind them. “This is not your fault!”  
“Then whose fault is it?” he asked bleakly.  
“I don’t know,” Frank replied honestly. “But not knowing doesn’t make it your fault. Gee, we’ll find out. We’ll stop it, somehow.”

Gerard nodded; he had to believe they could make all this right. Starting down the stairs, they could hear the noise before they had even reached the door to the floor below.

“No! Please! Let her go!”

Gerard and Frank exchanged quick glances. The voice was strained and muffled, but was clearly Ray’s. Bursting through the door, they looked to the right, to see The Dreamcatcher standing approximately half way down the corridor, a thick muscular arm wrapped around Ray’s neck, holding him securely. Against the wall, pinned by his free hand, was another lifeless pale body. She had been young, possibly an intern and now she hung dead in his grip.

“Let him go!” Gerard yelled. Then quieter: “Let her go too.”  
“I’m too strong to be stopped now. You certainly can’t stop me,” the Dreamcatcher laughed. “See how weak you are?”

Tightening his hold on Ray’s neck, the guitarist’s face started to redden as he gasped for breath; his fingers clawing uselessly at the Dreamcatcher’s arm. 

“Stop!” Gerard demanded. “What do you want?”

The Dreamcatcher smiled cruelly; his plan was working. He already had enough power to drain the life forces of almost anyone at will, of multiple people, not just individually chosen targets. Now, he had in his sights a special prize. Dropping the woman pinned against the wall, he extended his arm slowly and with an inevitability that caused the singer to hold his breath, he pointed a long finger at Gerard

“You,” he replied simply with a cruel, self-satisfied grin.

Gerard swallowed hard as the dreadful reality sank in. Inside, somehow he knew that he was the Dreamcatcher’s prey, but it appeared to him that he wanted to make him suffer along the way.

“You’ll let Ray go.” 

It was more a statement than a question, but the Dreamcatcher’s smile broadened still further into a sadistic smirk. He almost salivated at the prospect of taking the life force of the man who could grant him unimaginable powers.

“Wait!” Frank spoke under his breath as he grabbed his friend’s arm. “Gee, something’s wrong. If he wanted you, why didn’t he just come straight for you?”

Gerard glanced at Frank, his words made sense, but what could he do? Could he watch him kill Ray? It was unthinkable. Without answering, Gerard looked back at the Dreamcatcher.

“What about Mikey and Bob?” Gerard asked, still having received no reply regarding Ray’s safety.  
“You’re friends are all relatively safe,” he replied with a sly laugh. “Now, will you come or do I break his neck?”  
“Let him go! Let them all go and I’ll come.”  
“No, Gee! He’s…” Ray began hoarsely before grimacing as the Dreamcatcher’s hold on his neck tightened so much he couldn’t breathe.  
“Let him go!” Gerard yelled, the tension and distress he felt etched across his face.

Pulling his arm back sharply for a few more seconds, the Dreamcatcher allowed Ray to drop, now unconscious, at his feet.

“And now?” he demanded.   
“What about Bob and Mikey?” He pressed.  
“They’re alive, your friends here will see them again soon.”

Gerard nodded and edged forward only to be held back by Frank. 

“Gee, he’ll kill you, you can’t…”  
“I don’t have a choice,” Gerard replied wretchedly as he uncurled Frank’s fingers from his arm.   
“But…”

There was no chance to say anything more. It was as if time was suddenly dragging and everything was taking place in slow motion. Reaching out a hand, the Dreamcatcher merely motioned a finger and Gerard was pulled by some unseen force, like a tiny fleck of iron to a powerful magnet. Now in his grip, Gerard felt as though all his free will had drained away. Staring back at Frank, it was as if he was already distant and beyond reach. In that moment, somehow he knew the Dreamcatcher would not keep his word. 

“You lied to me!” he whispered as the knowledge came to him, almost instinctively.  
“Technically, no, but you’re right - none of you will survive. But you see, for me to take control of you, you had to offer yourself to me willingly so I... misrepresented the truth. There are no such restrictions any more. With you under my control and your friends about to die, I can break free permanently and then no one can ever stop me!”

Gerard watched in silence as the corridor faded to black. He thought he heard Frank shout his name, but it sounded so distant and hollow, it barely seemed real. The Dreamcatcher had tricked him and now he was helpless in his power. He had already felt his own will submit to this nightmarish creature; the work of his own imagination and it now seemed unlikely that he would be able to break free.


	8. Where is The Dreamweaver?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard wonders when The Dreamcatcher’s nemesis, The Dreamweaver will appear

Around both Gerard and The Dreamcatcher swirled a bleak, mass of nothing and yet it filled the air surrounding them in all directions as far as the eye could see. It was a black and empty void with nothing to see but somehow the void frequently seemed to twist, spiral or even fold in on itself. There were no edges, colour, or shading of any description. Neither were there any sounds to suggest movement and Gerard was at a loss to understand how he could determine the constant shape shifting around him. It made no sense; but then, none of this did. He felt the hand of The Dreamcatcher gripping his shoulder. It was a light touch and something that normally he could easily have pulled away from, yet somehow he was paralysed, completely immobile and helpless.

There was something about The Dreamcatcher’s touch that seemed to transfer knowledge of his intention, as though you could see right into his soulless mind and know exactly what plans he had in store for you. This single fact hardly came as a surprise to Gerard. He had written that the character would feed directly on the hopes and dreams of his victims and that direct link may easily flow in both directions but never in his wildest imagination had he considered the possibility that he would experience this himself.

Gerard reflected on the horror a victim would feel in the full knowledge that this evil creature intended to drain away his or her life. Because of that very link, Ray had known The Dreamcatcher’s true intentions – the trickery and deceit that would deliver Gerard to him, but he had been denied the chance to warn him. 

Anxious to save the lives of his brother and friends, Gerard had sacrificed himself, but it had been a trap. Gerard now he realised that The Dreamcatcher’s eyes had been on him. He was the main prize, the one person who could fulfil The Dreamcatcher’s ultimate ambition for superhuman abilities and world domination, and now he had him. Unlike Bob and Mikey who were attacked and taken by force, Gerard had submitted freely. In doing so he had, unknowingly and unintentionally, relinquished his will to this monster and was now not just his prisoner but his slave. One aspect still eluded him - why? He had taken Bob and Mikey without needing to get them to submit willingly. He still intended to take Frank and Ray, so it wasn’t that he didn’t need them too. What was different about him? Why was he the one he needed above all? It didn’t make sense to him.

Desperately, he prayed that The Dreamcatcher’s mysterious nemesis - The Dreamweaver - would reveal himself before it was too late. Yes, it was an untried and novel idea to keep his identity secret. Originally designed to be a unique point of interest, Gerard now truly wished that he had opted for a much more conventional storytelling device. It seemed more than likely that he, his brother and friends would be dead long before the unknown hero arrived on the scene. He knew that in his story, The Dreamcatcher’s nemesis, at first known only as The Dreamweaver, was unaware of his calling until finding an amulet that appeared from the dream world at the same time as The Dreamcatcher. Inside it lay an ancient scroll from which he would learn everything he needed to know. Would this happen in real life? Was he out there somewhere reading it now? Would he be in time?

Suddenly, the space around him swirled from the deepest black into a bright artificial light. Gerard realised only when his feet touched the floor that it was in fact him spinning and not the room around him. The soles of his boots skimmed the floor as the momentum kept him moving. Losing his balance, Gerard threw his arms out automatically in an attempt to save himself from injury but, unfamiliar with his surroundings, only succeeded in cracking the back of his left hand against something metal. Disorientated by his own motion and that the room in which he now found himself almost appeared to be moving in the opposite direction, Gerard fell backwards, unable to prevent it. As he fell, his head connected sharply with two metal bars behind him. Without even a moment to gather his senses, Gerard dropped to the floor in a crumpled heap. 

The Dreamcatcher curled his lips into a cruel smirk as he gazed down at his helpless captive now lying unconscious inside the cage he had prepared for him. He would make perfect bait for the remaining two victims. Coming to his rescue, neither musician would realise that he could now force the singer to do his bidding. Gerard himself would be forced to capture them; completely unsuspecting, they would be easy prey. 

*

Frank skidded to his knees in front of the unconscious guitarist. Rolling him onto his back, he could see the bruising on Ray’s neck from his struggles to free himself.

“Ray!” Frank yelled, trying to wake him, but without response. “Ray! Come on! Wake up!”

Frank sighed with relief as a frown appeared on the other guitarist’s face before his eyes fluttered open at the fourth call of his name; at least the fourth one he had heard. Attempting to speak was proving even more difficult, as he found his neck and throat still painful from the crushing grip of The Dreamcatcher had used on him. Instead, with an impatient frown, he waved for Frank to be silent.

“Are you okay?” Frank babbled on, ignoring him. “He took Gee!”  
“I know,” Ray finally managed as he rolled over onto his side and glanced up. “It was a trick.”

Frank’s brow furrowed as he thought about what Ray meant.  
“A trick?” he asked simply.   
“Yeah,” Ray nodded, sitting up slowly and gathering himself. 

Ray grimaced as his hand gently explored his neck. It felt lightly swollen under his fingertips and he knew even without a mirror that it was already bruising.

“What do you mean - a trick?” Frank pressed, having not received what he considered a satisfactory explanation from his earlier question.  
“He needed Gee to surrender and he was using me to make him do it,” he replied pushing himself to his feet.   
“But how is that a trick? He would have killed you!” Frank replied, grabbing Ray’s arms to help steady him.  
“No, he wouldn’t,” he shook his head, immediately regretting the motion. “I’ll explain on the way.”   
“Where? Do you know where he’s taken him?” Frank’s eyes widened with hope.  
“No, but we’ve got to speak to Vincent Hernandez.”  
“Hernandez? Gee’s new artist? You think he knows something about all this?”  
Ray shrugged. “I don’t know, but in the absence of Gee, who else knows about this Dreamcatcher character?”

Frank nodded; it made sense.

“What were you trying to say to Gee before he cut you off?”  
Ray sighed. “Just that it was a trick to get him. Come on, I’ll go through what I know when we’re in the car, but don’t get your hope up, it isn’t much.”

*

Bob and Mikey pressed themselves up against a brick wall. Breathless and tired, the pair rested for as long as they felt they could.

“You said you were in a room with no door when you woke up here?” Mikey whispered. “How did you get out?”

Bob turned his head, and it was immediately clear to Mikey from his expression of blank frustration that he didn’t have the answers he wanted.

“I don’t know, I passed out from lack of air. I woke up a bit later and suddenly there was an open door.”  
“He drew it?” Mikey asked.  
“Must have.” Bob nodded before adding with an angry scowl: “I guess he thought that having us running for our lives would be much more fun!”

A screech of brakes alerted the pair to the approaching danger. Turning to the left, they bolted, not even stopping to look back for fear it would slow them down. The sound of the gunshots crackled through the air. One bullet hit the wall against which they had just paused for breath, exploding in a small shower of red brick dust and mortar. 

The pain was excruciating as the second bullet found its mark. Running at full speed, it was as if his leg had suddenly stopped functioning and had collapsed beneath him. Bob found himself sprawling at high speed to the floor, rolling and skidding to a halt. The heat and searing pain emanating from his thigh almost took his breath away, and at first he didn’t even register the scrapes and lacerations on his lower arms and cheek.

“Bob!” Mikey now already several feet away, turned as he heard the cry of shock and pain as the drummer was hit.

Behind them, the car screeched to a halt only moments before the doors flew open and disgorged three thick set menacing looking men.

“Run!” Bob ordered, urgently.  
“But…”  
“Mikey, run!”

Realistically, there was nothing he could do to help Bob but it didn’t make him feel any better and reluctantly the bassist turned on his heels and fled. Bob cursed as the car started up again and with wheels spinning, headed after Mikey. But there was no more time to worry as his arms were seized and he was dragged to his knees. Almost on the verge of passing out with the pain, Bob knew he was in no position to fight them – whoever they were. All he could hope was that Mikey would escape.

*

As the two young men, followed the corridor toward the exit, they were left in deep distress at the sheer number of bodies lining the floors. Frank remembered Gerard’s warning about how The Dreamcatcher’s power increased with each life he drained and this killing spree went a long way to explaining his current size and strength. Ray was no weakling, but he was unable to free himself from his grip and the bruising around his neck was undeniable.

“Look!” Frank stopped suddenly in his stride and pointed to a body lying near the wall.

Ray turned a saddened expression toward another of his victims but was at a loss to see what had drawn Frank’s attention.

“Look at her skin and clothes. She’s not black and white,” Frank explained.  
“You’re right!” Ray exclaimed surprised with himself for not noticing immediately. “Maybe she’s not dead?”

With a nod, Frank knelt at her side and tried to wake her. Frowning as he found her unresponsive, Frank took a pulse.

“She’s alive, all right, but…” Frank paused to take a deep breath. “This is what you were like when you were standing in the rain.”  
“I know what that is now,” Ray admitted as Frank rose to his feet again.  
“What?”  
“I guess his name says it all really, not only does he drain people of their energy and hopes and dreams, he does it by… it’s like a sort of hypnosis. When I saw him, I couldn’t look away. It was as if I was asleep and totally rooted to the spot. I was kind of dreaming, I was in the same place, but everything was desolate and broken down…”  
“That’s what Gee said too,” Frank gasped as he recalled their earlier conversation. “What else?”  
“He was there, just staring.”  
“So, he puts his victims in a dream-like state?” Frank mused. “It would explain why we heard nothing even though he was killing people only a few yards away. I wonder why he didn’t kill her?” he added looking down at the woman in the trance.  
“He can’t kill everyone, not yet, not if their dreams are too strong,” Ray explained.  
“How do you know?”

Ray pushed his fingers into his hair as he thought about how to put it into words.

“I don’t really know. It’s like, when he had hold of me, I could pick up on certain things. I knew that he wanted Gee and that he was lying to him about letting us all go.”  
“He’s still after us?”  
Ray nodded. “It’s not just Gee he wants, but he’s special somehow, his energy will give him superpowers, but he had to give himself up willingly for it to work. That’s why we had the floorshow before. He wouldn’t have killed me, he needs all of us, but Gee didn’t know.”  
“You tried to warn him, but The Dreamcatcher stopped you,” Frank sighed. “Do you know anything else about him?”  
Ray shook his head. “No, sorry, that’s all I picked up. But, he’s winning, Frank, he has almost everything he needs now.”  
“Almost is not enough,” Frank replied defiantly. “Come on, let’s get to Hernandez’s studio. Maybe we’ll get some answers there?”


	9. Power and Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard learns the awful truth

Breathing hard, Mikey ran on, forced to keep close to the wall as the car mounted the sidewalk. Teasingly, the car moved along keeping a steady distance behind him. The driver lowered the door window and called out:

“Wanna lift?”

Mikey gritted his teeth at the obvious and frustrating sarcasm in the man’s tone followed by a deeply threatening laugh.

The bassist didn’t know how long he had been running for now, but was exhausted, almost tripping as his leaden legs began to fail him. All the while, the car kept a steady distance, the driver constantly taunting him. There seemed no way he could outrun the men chasing him. It wasn’t that he wanted to be caught, but it seemed more a matter of when than if. Ahead of him, the wall seemed to go on forever, but of course, it could. All Hernandez had to do was draw it. He could do whatever he wanted and right now, what he wanted was to terrify the two trapped musicians.

Glancing to his right, as the car moved into his peripheral vision, Mikey saw the grinning face of the driver of the car, now only inches from him, forcing him closer and closer to the wall. Refusing to give in and spurred on by the sight of the gun levelled at him, Mikey picked up his speed.

The car lurched forward suddenly, passing Mikey by a few feet. For the briefest of moments, Mikey wondered if the car was leaving but before he had time to react, the driver’s side door was thrown open and the car’s brakes applied sharply. With the screeching of the brake pads ringing in his ears and no time to stop, Mikey crashed headlong and at full speed into the door. The force of the collision drove all the air from his lungs with a deep and violent groan. Every bone in his body shaken and jarred, Mikey felt as weak as a kitten as the searing pain rendered him helpless. Crumpling to his knees, he slumped against the still open and now severely damaged door, no longer able to support himself.

Feeling rough hands on his arms and around his waist, he was unable to fight as he was dragged into the back seat of the car. Once inside, he was vaguely aware of his wrists being bound behind him, before giving in to the welcome blackness that engulfed him.

*

As he woke, Gerard curled in his extended arm. Even before his eyes were open, his hand was on the back of his head. His fingers felt the matted stickiness of his own blood in his hair. The area was still tender and particularly sore. The dull but persistent ache, that seemed to emanate from a few inches below the cut, felt almost as if it would break apart his skull, splitting it open from within.

“Welcome again to my studio, Gerard,” a familiar voice greeted him. “I’ve waited patiently for a long time, just for this moment.”

Rolling onto his back and pushing himself up onto his elbows, Gerard found himself still unable to focus his eyes. Even his first few words were incomprehensible as he tried to clear his double vision. Groggily, he eased himself up onto his knees as a figure loomed into view in front of him. As his sight slowly returned to full clarity, he began to make out the outline and features of the man standing before him, and with that image, the bars that separated them.

“What the…” he managed as he curled his fingers around one of the bars.

Looking up, his mouth opened, ready to speak, but for a few seconds no sound would emerge. During those brief moments, Gerard pulled himself to his feet. Still staring, his breathing quickened as, finally, he found his voice.

“Vincent?”  
“You might well look shocked,” Hernandez grinned mockingly. “After all, you’ve been used and taken for a fool.”  
“Used?” Gerard frowned, uncertain if he didn’t understand or simply didn’t want to. “You’re behind all this?”  
“You really had no clue? I am surprised, Gerard. But yes, I have helped The Dreamcatcher come through to our world and, of course unintentionally, so have you.”

The stunned singer moved forward a few inches, now gripping the bars with both hands. Anger bubbled up from deep within as he thought about how he had been played.

“People are dead because of you!” Gerard yelled furiously from within the cage.  
“And it’s not finished yet,” Hernandez sneered. “There are at least five more victims to be taken before he is truly free.”  
“M-Mikey… and Bob?” Gerard paled at the thought that they may already be dead.  
“That’s right,” Hernandez taunted.  
“You… you killed them?” Gerard stammered, praying it wasn’t true.  
“They’re not dead yet,” he snapped, much to Gerard’s relief. “But you and your friends will die to bring him into this world permanently.”  
“Not if I can help it, you bastard!” Gerard screamed, the venom bursting from his voice.

Pushing his arm through the bars, he tried to snatch at the artist’s arm, but Gerard’s still slowed reactions worked against him. Hernandez caught his wrist and twisted his arm viciously. Crying out in pain and shock, Gerard’s ability to fight drained suddenly and completely as his shoulder and elbow neared dislocation.

“I suggest you calm down and accept that this will happen, there’s nothing you can do about it anyway.”

Releasing Gerard’s wrist and shoulder, Hernandez pushed him forward into the centre of the cage, as he, in turn, stood back quickly. Turning back to face him and cradling his arm, pain still shooting along the nerves, Gerard stared for a few moments before putting his next question; he had to admit, he was at a loss to understand.

“How did you bring him to life?” he asked quietly.  
“I didn’t, he was already alive. He is a living being, and always has been. He just needed to break out of the dream world.”

Gerard had a multitude of half-formed questions swirling around inside his head but not one even came close to summing up his confusion and surprise at discovering that his fictional character was somehow real. Soon it became apparent what to ask next.

“How do you know all this?”

Hernandez smiled faintly; he had a feeling that Gerard would be crushed by the explanation.

“The same way you know,” he began. “He entered our dreams.”

Gerard’s eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and horror at the words. Memory of the forgotten dreams came flooding back to him as he spoke the words. It seemed that either the mention of them had triggered the memories or somehow he was now allowed to remember. As Hernandez laughed harshly at Gerard’s expression, the singer suspected the latter explanation. He had been manipulated and he felt physically sick that the outcome had resulted in so many deaths. How could Hernandez simply not care?

“Yes, my friend, you were made to forget them. The Dreamcatcher entered your sleeping mind and sowed the seeds of a story and a new character, carefully outlined and complete. You would see him, exactly as you wanted him drawn, but you would forget the dream. Then what? You need to find an artist, one that could do him justice. But there really was only one man who could draw him the way you wanted, and that was me. Why? Because I’d seen him!”

Hernandez took a few steps back and settled himself in a chair at a table. As he looked up once more, he smiled as he noticed Gerard struggling to take in the bizarre tale.

“Yes, he came to me in a dream, several dreams, as it turned out. He told me how he could be brought through from the dream world into ours. He told me everything he would need and everything I had to do to make it happen. Then he gave me this…”

Reaching into his pocket, Hernandez withdrew a pen from his pocket and held it up for Gerard to see.

“You see, drawing with this pen quite literally brings the comic to life. And not only that, I can use it to reverse the process. By simply piercing the skin, I can send a person into the pages.”  
“Mikey!” Gerard cried, stepping forward to grip the bars once more as he remembered how The Dreamcatcher had stabbed something into the back of his brother’s neck and only moments later, he was shrunk to a mere six inches. “He’s in the comic?”  
“Yes, both Mikey and Bob are currently trapped in the comic, running for their lives. It’s very amusing for me to draw and watch a real life comic where whatever I draw truly happens.”

Gerard’s knuckles were turning white as he gripped the bars even tighter, somehow managing to contain his fury as he tried to obtain as much information as possible.

“You remembered the dreams?”  
“Yes, of course. You see, I didn’t need your sketches to recreate him. I got the job because I was the only one who could draw him the way you saw him. But then, I knew him. None of the other applicants had that privilege.”  
“Privilege! He’s homicidal! All he wants to do is kill! How can you work for him?”  
“Most importantly, for me, when he visited my dreams, he told me what I could expect in return for helping him.”

Gerard took a deep breath before asking the question, he truly felt he knew the response already and that it would explain nothing.

“So, what’s in it for you? That’s what this really comes down to, isn’t it? Money? Power?”

Hernandez smirked at Gerard’s indignant anger.

“Yes; money, power, position, certainly. But more than that, this is about recognition. Everyone will know who I am!”  
“Fame! You’re doing this for fame?” Gerard gasped in disbelief at the shallowness of the response.  
“No, my friend, you have fame, for all the good that it’s done you. What I will have, is glory! The world will be mine. Do you have even the slightest concept of that level of power?”  
“The world will be _his_, not yours! You can’t hope to control him once he’s free,” Gerard raged at the man’s stupidity.  
“I don’t need to control him, he will give me whatever I need. I have no reason not to trust his word.”

Gerard gripped the bars so tightly, his hands began to hurt.

“His word! What kind of total fucking ignorant moron are you? His word means nothing!”

Furious at the berating, Hernandez pushed his arm through the bars in a violent rage, seizing Gerard by the neck. Ducking quickly out the one-handed hold, Gerard grabbed the artist’s wrist, pulling back so the whole length of his arm was pulled inside the cage. Twisting his arm up the bars, he forced Hernandez to turn his back to the cage, pinning him against it. Pushing his arm ever higher with all his strength, Gerard reached with his free hand desperate to find the pocket containing the pen. With his fingertips brushing the tip, Gerard screamed in pain as Hernandez kicked back catching his right knee with enough force as to make it give way beneath him.

His grip severely weakened, it became a easy matter for Hernandez to pull free, shoving Gerard to the floor of the cage in the process.

“Nice try, Gerard! But you don’t get away that easily!”  
“He’s not gonna let you live after he’s free! Don’t you understand that?”  
“Of course he will! I’m no threat to him. I’m freeing him, he has no reason to kill me.”  
“He has no reason to let you live either. In fact, he does have a reason to kill you! With that pen, you’re the only one who can send him back! With you dead, he’s truly free!” Gerard tried desperately to reason with him, pushing himself into a kneeling position.  
“I think you should worry a little less about me and a little more about you and your friends,” Hernandez threatened.  
“Don’t think we won’t fight you!” Gerard warned in return as he got to his feet once more.

Hernandez laughed cruelly.

“You think so? You gave yourself up to The Dreamcatcher, you fool! He controls your will now. He can force you to do anything and the more you try to resist the stronger the control will be. You will capture your own friends as they try to rescue you.”  
“No…” Gerard shook his head. “There’s no way I’ll help you!”  
“Let’s see shall we?”

As if out of a mist, The Dreamcatcher appeared alongside Hernandez and immediately, Gerard felt his mind fighting for power over of his own actions. Grimacing as the battle inside him raged, he could hear the cruel laughter of his captors as he struggled to retain control. Within minutes, Gerard looked up, his eyes glazed, his stance submissive.

“Your friends will be here shortly,” The Dreamcatcher announced as he handed over a second pen to Gerard. “They will try to rescue you. You will send them into the pages.”

Taking the pen and slipping it into his pocket, Gerard nodded silently. Inside, he could hear his own voice screaming at him to fight, but The Dreamcatcher’s control over him was simply too strong.


	10. Hernandez Receives His Reward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is The Dreamcatcher’s Nemesis and can he help?

Hernandez turned his head in the direction of the studio as he heard the outer door open.

“They’re here,” he sneered as he glanced at the still compliant frontman. Gerard’s blank facial expression was animated only by his eyes, which glittered with a combination of fear and bitter hatred behind the enforced passive mask.

“I know that even though you cannot respond, you can hear and understand every word I say. I find it delightfully apt that despite losing your free will to me, you still feel the horror of what is about to happen. Trust me, no matter how hard you fight my control there is nothing you can do to prevent this.” The Dreamcatcher began. “Rest assured, I will remain nearby to keep tight control over your actions. I know what you’re thinking, but there is no escape for you, not for any of you.”

Placing the key to the door of the cage on a nearby table, Hernandez and The Dreamcatcher withdrew to an adjoining room and quietly closed the door. As the door clicked shut, Gerard appeared to wake as if from a deep yet refreshing sleep. Suddenly alert and aware, he ran his fingers down one of the bars as if seeing them for the first time. From the outer room he heard a scraping sound of something like a chair moving a few inches on a wooden floor. It caught his attention and his head turned sharply at the noise and he found himself holding his breath as he listened intently for any clues as to the source of the sound. Only moments later, he was rewarded by the sound of a very familiar voice.

“Vincent?” came the call from the outer room of the studio.  
“Frank!” Gerard yelled urgently, gripping the bars.

No more words were needed; Frank and Ray knew all too well that they had discovered much more than they had ever expected to. Bursting through the door, the two guitarists stood open-mouthed at the sight of Gerard locked in the cage.

“It’s Hernandez,” Gerard announced as he moved to the cage door. “He’s got Bob and Mikey too.”  
“Hernandez?” Frank asked, a puzzled expression fixed firmly on his face. “But how? We saw the Dreamcatcher, it wasn’t Hernandez.”

Gerard shook his head with an impatient frown.

“It’s a long story, but we don’t have much time. You have to get me out of here.”  
“Where’s the key?” Ray asked, glancing quickly around the room.  
“Over there,” Gerard pointed through the bars. “On that table.”

Nodding briefly, Ray fetched the large brass key, while inside the cage and unseen, Gerard dipped his hand into his pocket and allowed his fingers to curl around the pen.

“Where are Bob and Mikey?” Frank asked as Ray turned the key in the lock and opened the heavy barred door.  
“He’s got them in there,” Gerard replied, nodding to the other door. “Hernandez is out looking for you guys, it’s safe.”

Frank looked from Gerard to Ray and back; it didn’t make sense. Why would Gerard be locked in a cage in one room, but Mikey and Bob be held in another. Why hadn’t they called out? We’re they unconscious? As had already been pointed out, there simply wasn’t time to think about it, they had to get everyone out - making sense of all of this would have to wait.

As Frank headed towards the other room inside which they had been told their two friends were being held, Ray turned the key in the lock and released Gerard.

Stepping, quickly from the cage, Gerard motioned Ray into a ‘thank you’ hug and, happy to have found and released his friend, Ray accepted the gesture gladly. Gerard curled his arms around Ray’s back, but instead of a friendly pat, he stabbed the pen into the guitarist’s shoulder. Ray emitted a weak cry of pain that was already fading before it left his lips, but it was enough to draw Frank’s attention. As Gerard allowed Ray to fall to the floor, Frank’s eyes widened in surprise as the scene unfolded before him.

Staring purposefully, Gerard blocked Frank’s exit back into the outer studio, knowing that if he did try the other door, Hernandez and The Dreamcatcher would have him. But far from trying to escape, Frank was frozen to the spot as he gazed at Ray’s unconscious form lying on the floor. It was impossible to say whether the colour was draining out of him or the ink was pouring in, but within seconds Ray was devoid of all colour. His face deathly white, his features suddenly in sharp relief, his entire body merely a mass of black, white and greys.

Stunned by what he had just witnessed, it took Frank a good few seconds to even register the danger he was in. Looking at Gerard, he could see the turmoil in his eyes, remembering only now what Ray had said at the hospital when he had explained that Gerard was now under the control of The Dreamcatcher.

“Gee!” Frank cried. “Fight him! You have to fight!”  
“I… I’m trying…” Gerard’s brow furrowed with the agony of the effort.

The words were no sooner out of his lips than he was racing forward, knocking Frank backwards and pinning him to the wall.  
Shaking off the sheer disbelief of what was happening, Frank reached up to grab Gerard’s wrist as the pen descended towards him. Gerard was proving unnaturally strong and it was taking all of his effort merely to fend him off.

“I’m sorry, Frank.”

Frank’s eyes connected with Gerard’s, they were dull and lifeless and he knew beyond question that Gerard had again lost the battle. It was almost as if his strength doubled in that instant as his hand came sharply down and the pen pierced the skin at the base of his neck. Grimacing with the pain, Frank felt his knees give way beneath him and by the time he hit the floor, he was unconscious.

Gerard watched helplessly as the process repeated itself and finally Frank faded before his eyes and knowing that within moments both he and Ray would appear in the pages of the comic book. A feeling of extreme nausea lodged itself firmly in the pit of his stomach as he reflected on his, albeit unwilling, part in their fate.

The door to the adjoining room opened once more and Hernandez emerged first. The expression on his face was one of elation; very much the look of a man who had almost everything he wanted well within reach. Joining Hernandez, The Dreamcatcher wore a self-satisfied smirk. They both appeared to revel in their success, but, Gerard noted as he watched in silence, that success appeared to mean something different to each of them. The apparent discrepancy would shortly be explained.

“And now,” The Dreamcatcher announced, “it is time to reveal two secrets that were withheld from you during my visits to your dreams.”

Hernandez turned a suspicious eye to The Dreamcatcher and cocked his head in a gesture of uncertainty.

“Firstly, my nemesis,” he began by introducing the topic. “I gave the impression that he was unknown to me, suggesting that it would be an interesting plot device. But of course, this is not the case; I know exactly who he is. He formally goes by the name Dreamweaver. Over the years there have been a great number of Dreamweavers, but only ever one at any given time; all unaware that one day they may be called upon to destroy me. I have tried to leave the Dream World many times, but on each occasion, once they were made aware, the Dreamweaver at that time has managed to repel my attempts to break free. But on this occasion, I opted for a much more cunning approach. Instead of an attack, I would create my own opportunity and even get others to do my work for me. And, my greatest achievement to date was to get the Dreamweaver himself to help me.”

With an expansive wave of his arm, The Dreamcatcher indicated towards Gerard, a self-satisfied smirk resting on his face.

“Him!” Hernandez laughed with disbelief as he jerked a thumb in Gerard’s direction. “He’s your nemesis?”  
“Indeed he is.” The Dreamcatcher replied. “Or should I say, was? Now you see why it was necessary to force him to give himself over willingly. Under my control, he can do me no harm.”  
“Genius!” Hernandez cried, brimming with delight and admiration. “So, nothing can stop us now?”  
“I have the Dreamweaver and his four cohorts all ready to die. I have everything I need. However, there is one small detail remaining. The other secret I kept from you both.”  
“What’s that?” Hernandez asked, eager to hear more.

The Dreamcatcher smiled cruelly at his naivety, before throwing an arm tightly around Hernandez’s neck. As he choked for breath and tried desperately to pull away, Hernandez gasped in shock as The Dreamcatcher began to whirl; turning ever faster, spinning almost out of control. Once again the Dreamcatcher entered a void of pure nothing but within it lay a twisting, writhing blackness. Within moments the daylight returned and still spinning when all else was motionless, Hernandez lost his footing and crashed to the floor.

Glancing around urgently the moment he had recovered his senses, he found himself kneeling in the supply room of his studio, in exactly the same spot that he had been standing only moments earlier. Yet now, the room was in disarray; broken and apparently abandoned. Shattered glass and torn paper covered the floor, empty paint tins littered the room and broken easels stood at peculiar angles.

“What is this? What did you do?” Hernandez demanded. “How did it get like this?”  
“Look out of the window.”

The Dreamcatcher’s voice was calm and yet at the same time menacing and deeply disturbing. Shakily, Hernandez rose to his feet to do as he was ordered. Staring through a grubby, cracked and broken pane of glass, he was at a loss to understand the view that he beheld.

Beyond the window lay a desolate wasteland. The streets and buildings were exactly where he expected them to be, but all were ruined and absolutely deserted.

“H-how?” Hernandez stammered, turning back to face The Dreamcatcher. “Where is everyone? Why is everything destroyed?”  
“Welcome to the Dream World.” He began. “I was imprisoned here a long time ago. Each day, I rose to see the landscape minutely changed as changes in the real world occurred; a new building rose, an old one demolished.”  
“Why does it look like this? Ruins? Deserted?”  
“Tell me,” The Dreamcatcher smiled wryly, “if you spent two hundred and fifty seven years here, alone, ageless, undying, how would you feel?”  
“Two hundred and… I’d go insane!”

The Dreamcatcher laughed at what he saw as the irony of the reply.

“Maybe I am? Who can say for certain? But out of sheer frustration and anger at my imprisonment, I destroyed this world many years ago. But now, it’s yours.”  
“Mine?” Hernandez repeated, puzzled by the statement.  
“Yes,” The Dreamcatcher replied slyly. “The one thing you would have most wanted to know is that the Dream World must always be occupied. I cannot leave without someone taking my place.”  
“You…you can’t mean…? No! You lied to me!”  
“Of course I lied to you!” The Dreamcatcher sneered. “You should have listened to The Dreamweaver’s warnings. But then, I was once like you; a greedy, small-minded individual, tricked into helping my predecessor. I at least had the pleasure of seeing him beaten and destroyed by that lifetime’s Dreamweaver, but I was still trapped here, in this lonely desolate place. It has taken two hundred and fifty seven long years to learn and harness the power of Dream World and now, finally, with The Dreamweaver and his cohorts about to die and you taking my place, I can finally return and take my revenge!”  
“No! No, please! Don’t leave me here!” Hernandez begged as the horror of his predicament sank in. “Please, leave someone else; anyone, I’ll find someone for you. I won’t ask for anything! Just please don’t leave me here!”  
“I have no interest in your wishes, needs or wellbeing. I care only about my own freedom.”  
“Please!” Hernandez pleaded. “I’ll go crazy here!”

The Dreamcatcher’s mouth lengthened into a cruel grin as he started to fade from sight.

“Welcome to _my_ world!”  
“No!” Hernandez screamed, terrified, as he rushed forward, but it was already too late, The Dreamcatcher was gone.

All energy drained away from the abandoned artist as he began to fully comprehend the terrible reality of his situation. Dropping to his knees, he emitted a low guttural scream, desperate in the knowledge that he was now immortal, forever trapped in an empty world.


	11. To The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dreamcatcher still has Gerard under his control. Can he break free or be forced to watch as his brother and friends are killed?

By the time Mikey, dragged by two much taller and broader men, approached the heavy steel barred door, beyond which he knew would lie only a cell and possibly his death, he was already struggling furiously. Now awake and recovered from his painful and violent collision with the car during his capture, he was determined not to make it easy for them.

“Keep still, or I’ll snap you in two!”

Mikey had no intention of obeying any order from either of the two men, but they were ready with their own plans.

“Hey!” one yelled. “In the cell!”

All Mikey’s protestations ceased as Frank moved forward and stood framed in the doorway. He curled his fingers around one of the bars as he stared out; his expression a strange mix of anguish and apology. Mikey’s own expression turned from one of shock to eventually mirror Frank’s own as Ray too stepped forward to join his fellow guitarist at the bars. Knowing that Bob had already been taken and was probably resting his leg somewhere inside the cell, there was only one person left unaccounted for.

“Where’s Gee?” Mikey asked as Ray and Frank were forced back away from the door to allow it to be opened.

Shoved inside, Mikey shuddered slightly as he heard the clang of the door being locked tight behind him. But even that was a mere distraction compared with the reaction from his bandmates to the question just asked.

“What?” Mikey asked with concerned uncertainty. “What’s going on? Where’s Gee? Is he okay?”

It was a question that Mikey was certain to ask, but somehow, none of them had prepared themselves to answer it. Frank took a pace forward and nodded thoughtfully. Taking Mikey’s arm, he encouraged the bassist to sit.

“Frank, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me now!”  
“He’s not here,” Frank began.  
“I can see that!” Mikey snapped, frustrated by the lack of a response. “Just tell me; is he okay?”  
“He…he’s…”  
“Frank!” Mikey yelled, now fearing the worst.  
“He’s under the control of the Dreamcatcher,” Bob explained bluntly. “He sent Frank and Ray into the comic on his orders.”

Mikey’s brow furrowed; it was a lot to take in. Bob had been brought up to speed by Frank and Ray as soon as they had been brought to the cell, but that had taken several minutes of explanation. Bob had compacted everything into one simple shocking statement and Mikey needed a moment to process it.

“Bob!” Frank hissed. “Did you have to put it like that?”  
“It had to be put some way, you were just scaring him by saying nothing,” Bob countered.  
“But like that! You couldn’t have found a gentler way to say it?”  
“Trust me, Frank,” Bob stared up with a grim frown on his face. “Mikey and I have had a lot of weird things happen to us here. He can handle it.”  
“Guys,” Ray interrupted nodding to his side towards Mikey.

All three turned their attention, with a tinge of guilt, toward the younger of the brothers, apparently struggling with a detail.

“Why?” he finally asked with a puzzled expression firmly fixed on his face.  
“Mikes, it wasn’t his fault,” Ray explained. “He gave himself up to…”  
“No,” Mikey interrupted quietly waving a hand in front of himself for emphasis. “You don’t understand. I mean, why did the Dreamcatcher take control of him? He didn’t with us. Why did he with Gee?”

The young bassist was fixed with three suddenly blank expressions as they considered possible reasons for the anomaly. Finally, it was Frank who voiced the opinion of them all.

“It could only be because for some reason he had to.”  
Mikey nodded grimly. “And if he had to, it must be because Gerard can stop or harm him in some way.”  
“So, Gee’s not only his way through, but he can send him back,” Bob reasoned.  
“Except, he can’t, can he?” Ray argued. “The Dreamcatcher’s controlling him.”  
“There must be some way of fighting him off,” Frank added, more out of hope than real belief. “Ray, you picked up a lot when he had hold of you at the hospital. Is there nothing else you know? Anything that may help?”

Ray shrugged with a horrible feeling of uselessness. “I told you everything. Perhaps if he could get us out of here, we could help, but I don’t know what else to say.”

*

Gerard blinked as his mind snapped out of its daze. Momentarily confused, recent events once again flooded his mind. Noticing the pen still in his hand, Gerard grimaced as a wave of nausea hit him in the sober recognition of what he had done.

Glancing around quickly, he realised he was alone; wherever The Dreamcatcher had taken Hernandez, he was momentarily free of him and his control. Of course, he knew that Gerard would make no attempt to leave the building, not while he had his brother and friends trapped in the comic’s pages.

Knowing that time was probably short, Gerard ran into the studio and stared at the large board-backed sheet of paper standing on the easel. Taking in the sequence of pictures, he could clearly see how Bob and Mikey had been tormented and were now languishing in a cell shared with Frank and Ray.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself. “First mistake, you told me where to find them. But now what?”

Gerard pushed his hand through his hair, struggling to make himself concentrate and not dwell on the limited time he knew he had. Tapping the pen on his lower lip, willing himself to think, to search for a solution, Gerard lowered his eyes and gazed at the pen. Hernandez himself had told him that the pen would bring the comic to life. It was his way in and most probably, their way out.

Touching the frame with the nib, Gerard gasped in surprise as the once static figures began to move.

*

‘What’s happening?” Ray asked nervously as an entire section of the once blackened wall began to fade to a glass-like transparency.

Bob scowled; he knew exactly what was happening.

“That wall is the window into the comic. We can’t see it from this side; it’s like a two-way mirror. They can see in, but we can’t see out.”  
“Okay,” Ray nodded. “But what’s happening now?”  
“Hernandez can open it. He did it when he first took me; he came to gloat. I’ll warn you now, he’ll look about seventy feet tall from in here. Freaked me out when I first saw him.”

As the wall faded completely, a broad smile spread across Mikey’s face as he realised that it was not Hernandez come to gloat over their capture. Instead, he stared up at the unimaginably large face of his brother.

“Gee!” he called happily.  
“How do I get you out?” Gerard asked urgently, aware that The Dreamcatcher may return at any moment.  
“We can’t just step out through the window,” Bob announced. “I tried that and I stayed small. There must be another way.”  
“Whatever he draws is real,” Mikey added helpfully. “Draw something!”

Gerard nodded; it made perfect sense. Thinking frantically, Gerard pushed a hand through his hair. He had to draw something to get them out of the page, but what?

“Okay, I’ve got an idea,” he began urgently. “You have to get out of the pages, but first, you got to get out of that cell and be able to protect yourself.”

Quickly sketching a key and two guns, Gerard smiled with relief, as Mikey and Frank were able to pick them up. Trying the key in the lock, Mikey’s smile broadened still further as the cell door opened immediately.

“I’ll help Bob walk,” Ray announced.  
“Okay, you get out and head right. I’m moving on to the next frame?”

As the wall blackened once more, Gerard turned his attention to the next frame of the comic. There simply wasn’t time to ask how everyone was or how Bob had been hurt. Gerard knew that time was short and he had to hurry.  
His eyes darted quickly around the room, taking in as much detail as he was able. His hand flew across the frame, drawing the studio as fast as he could. Almost finished, Gerard felt his arm tense as if straining against something.

“And now, it’s time to step back away from the easel,” a slow and steady voice demanded.

Gerard’s fingers froze as he felt his arm pulling away from the paper.

“No!” he spat through gritted teeth as he fought back.

Pushing the pen forward one last time, he managed another line on the page.

“Back!” The Dreamcatcher screamed mercilessly.

Staggering back unwillingly, Gerard found himself beyond reach of the easel and rooted to the spot.

“I knew it was a risk leaving you even for a few minutes, but you have surpassed all my expectations, Dreamweaver. Not only did you release yourself from my control, but you also found your cohorts. Unfortunately, you had insufficient time. They are still trapped and now, they will die.”  
“No… please… kill me instead,” Gerard begged, still unable to move.

The Dreamcatcher let out a cruel laugh as he turned back toward the comic proof.

“Kill you instead? Dreamweaver, you misunderstand. You were always going to die and once you do, I will be free forever with the powers of the Dream World at my command.”  
“What… what are you doing?”

Gerard’s eyes flew open as he caught sight of The Dreamcatcher setting fire to the corner of the large sheet of card-backed paper resting on the easel.

“I’m killing your friends.”  
“No!” Gerard screamed as the flames licked higher on the page.

Gripping the pen ever tighter, his fingernails dug into his palm as he listened to the terrified shouts of all the people trapped in the pages. The Dreamcatcher’s mocking laughter rang loudly in his ears as he fought against the mind control, his anger and fear building to colossal heights.

A new sound reached him. A sound he knew very well. Mikey’s anguished voice calling his name. Inside him something snapped and in an instant he was rushing forward in a blur of fury and rage. It seemed only a fraction of a second before he was at The Dreamcatcher’s back jamming the pen down hard into him, so deep that it was half buried between his shoulder blades. Arching his back, screaming in agony and disbelief he tried to reach the pen. But the damage was done. Already his fingers were fading. Dropping to his knees, The Dreamcatcher felt his very existence slipping away. Unable even to return to the Dream World, he was defeated and dying.

Gerard ignored him; his only interest lay in the sheet of paper now fully alight and filling the room with smoke and tiny crackling flakes of ash as small sections broke away to fly briefly through the air, floating embers of scorched paper.

Removing his jacket, Gerard tried desperately to smother the flames, burning his hands as he patted frantically at sections of the paper. Finally the flames died away leaving only a fraction of the sheet. What remained was charred and blackened, the curled edges still glowing with tiny pinpricks of orange light.

Stepping back, Gerard allowed his jacket to fall from his blistered and bleeding hands. Staring intently, he waited with his heart in his mouth, but nothing happened. Falling to his knees, Gerard stared at the floor, his tears stinging his hands as the salt mixed with the open sores, but he felt numb and the pain barely registered. He had broken free of The Dreamcatcher too late.

Even when the sound of coughing eventually filtered though to his insensate mind it still didn’t register that he should be alone. Only when a hand touched his arm, did he turn.

“Gee,” the hoarse voice whispered.  
“Mikey!” Gerard cried elated, throwing his arms around his brother despite the pain in his hands.

Still kneeling, but no longer resting back on his heels, Gerard looked over Mikey’s shoulder to see, Frank, Bob and Ray emerging from near the wall. Leaning back from the embrace, Gerard rose unsteadily, helping Mikey to do the same.

“How?” he asked with uncertainty, as the brothers joined their bandmates; all of them grubby and dishevelled.  
“You did it,” Frank replied between coughs. “We could see our way through to the studio, but we had to get through the smoke and fire.”  
“I… I thought…” Gerard threw his arms around his friend, his tears now those of relief.  
“What about The Dreamcatcher?” Ray asked as he checked on Bob.  
“He’s dead. He made the mistake of turning his back on me and I think my will to save you all was stronger than his will to stop me.” Gerard confirmed with more than a hint of anger and bitterness. Only moments later, deep regret was seeping into his tone. “Frank... Ray... I’m sorry. I can’t tell you how...”

“We’re okay, Gee, it wasn’t your fault. And you said it yourself - you wanted to save us more than he wanted to stop you. That’s pretty awesome!” Frank placed a comforting hand on his friend’s arm. “Gee, we’re okay, really.”  
“Listen to him, Gee,” Ray added. “It’s all good.”

Gerard nodded, grateful for their understanding, but it only led to another worried expression.

“Oh, Bob, your leg, are you okay? What happened?”

Bob glanced down, his gunshot wound now appearing only as an ink mark on his leg.

“I’m fine, Gee, I was shot, but it’s just a smudge,” he nodded with a smile, before breaking into a painful cough. “But, you’re hurt… your hands.”  
“You put the fire out?” Mikey added with concern, examining his brother’s hands as he realised the cause of his injuries.

Gerard nodded; both exhausted and overcome with relief.

“I’ll be fine, but we should probably go to the hospital. I just can’t believe it’s over.”  
“Come on,” Bob smirked. “Let’s try explaining _these_ injuries to a doctor.”

Gerard found a smile creeping across his face. Perhaps they needed a plausible lie - no one was going to believe the real story.

*

“So!” Hernandez sneered as he spoke aloud to only his own ears. “For all his gloating and lying and power, Way still defeated him! Well, that won’t happen to me! Now _I’m_ The Dreamcatcher and when I escape from here, God help them all!”

**THE END**


End file.
